

.«.H!^ 


>■•: •'^ ' 


1 




^l! 


1 


*v\ \ / "W 


^^^^Wif '^ 1 















4«J'.W« .-j-. 



TAMAR CURZE 



Tamar Curze 



BY 

BERTHE ST. LUZ 

AUTHOR OF 

"BLACK BUTTERFUES" 



»« 



"Then are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'* 






R. F. FENNO & COMPANY 

18 EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET, NEW YORK 






0. 



^^ 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Tv Copies Received 

' OCT 27 1908 

Ccpyriitlil tntry 
ClWsS OC ^^Xc, No, 

— ^^ml I 



Copyright, 1908, 

BY 

R. F. FENNO & COMPANY. 



TAMAR CURZE 



PROLOGUE. 

"Infernally hot! eh, Professor?" 

Kossiter dexterously wheels his horse be- 
neath the meagre shade of a coroneted palm 
edging the Assam jungle and a trifle anxiously 
repeats the question: 

"Blazing," briefly acquiesces Professor 
D'Herbelot. 

"We are on a wild-goose chase, I think," fret- 
fully continues Rossiter, "instead of " 

"Wild hogs," grins D'Herbelot, idly tapping 
with his whip the toe of a heavy hunting boot 
and calmly regarding the youngster mopping 
his forehead, from which the perspiration is 
flowing copiously, as he asks: 

"Where is Lieutenant Curze? I haven't set 
eyes on him for an hour or more." 

"Possibly his elephant has gone 'must' and 
bolted." 



ii Prologue. 

"If so, he'll come back, however, to hear your 
lecture on 'Evolution' this evening. Professor." 

D'Herbelot shrugs his massive shoulders in- 
differently, as his companion, changing the 
topic, but not his tone, still grumbles : 

"These lazy natives are such devilish liars; 
here I am with but one beggarly bear cub to my 
credit, while you" — enviously — "have had no 
end of luck ; a couple of hogs, a tiger, not men- 
tioning that leopardess who " 

"Ah! that's it," quickly interrupted the 
other, "her ladyship perplexes me. God! 
wasn't she a beauty? I'd know her amongst 
a thousand. But you are mistaken, my boy, 
she was not a leopardess, though strongly re- 
sembling one; the spots, if you noticed, were 
much more even and entirely separated. It 
was sheer stupidity to allow her to escape. 
How did she do it ?" moodily. "I could almost 
swear I hit her." 

"You did," decidedly; "I'll stake my flask 
of hendra that you did." 



Prologue. iii 

"Hendra! Bless you, hand it over; my 
mouth seems filled with ashes — Bah !" spatting 
upon the ground, "the beastly stuff's boiling, 
and," eagerly, "you think — ^you really think I 
hit her?" 

"]^ot a doubt about it," answered Rossiter. 

"Then," irritably, "perdition seize me! 
iWhere under the sun did she go ? Disappeared 
as if the earth had swallowed her." 

*'Yes, that's what puzzles me, and I also 
agree with you. Professor, from the glimpse I 
caught, she was a prize worth capturing. But 
why waste more time needlessly? The guides 
have threshed every inch of space. What more 
can be done ? And see," pointing toward a 
clearing to the left, where, beneath the scant 
shelter of several bamboos, a group of spotted 
deer were herded, "if you are not satisfied with 
your morning's work, here is game in plenty." 

"!N'ot for me, Felix," answers D'Herbelot. 
"I'm not a man of blood ; and it is, to my idea, 
nothing short of murder to kill those inoffen- 
sive, pathetic little creatures." 



iv Prologue. 

"Better call the men, then, and return to 
camp," suggests Rossiter. 

"All right," assents D'Herbelot; "you do 
look done up." 

"Yes," answers the lad. "Phew! it's hotter 
than limbo, and my ankles smart like the dick- 
ens from those confounded leeches." 

As the half-clad, lithe, sinewy-limbed ski- 
karrees came running in answer to the shout 
from Rossiter's lusty young lungs, and the two 
hunters turn to depart. Professor D'Herbelot 
casts one last regretful look jungle-ward in 
vain quest of his lamented leopardess. 

The day was, indeed, as Felix Rossiter said, 
"infernally hot" ; for even the beasts of the jun- 
gle slink with lolling tongues in search of water, 
while the sickening reek and twang of spicy 
odors — cardamom, turmeric, ginger and sandal- 
wood — sway in the heavy air. 

The sun is a mighty furnace, whose huge 
tongue of flame, blazing down, squeezes, greed- 
ily licks the oozing sap from the "sal," and to 
whose merciless power bud and blossom pas- 



Prologue. T 

sively submit. All, all bow in helpless aban- 
donment, save the palm, bamboo and towering 
mulkarai-trees, who, lifting their tall heads, 
seemingly laugh a proud defiance. 



TAMAR CURZE. 



I. 



The incidents which I am about to relate are 
so queer, so horribly strange, that I pause with 
upraised pen, debating within myself, Is it best 
to proceed or let the affair sink into oblivion ? 
My inherent timidity and inclination strenu- 
ously answer "Yes"; but the shadowy presence 
of D'Herbelot at my elbow authoritatively 
whispers "Kay." 

Wiseacres, deeply learned in magic lore, will 
smilingly shake their gray heads and mutter, 
"Tut! tut! an utter impossibility, quite beyond 
the power of human credence." 

And you, my critics and masters, you, who 

will mockingly condemn, deride these pages, 

permit me to remind you of that time-worn 

phrase, "Truth is stranger than fiction," 

7. 



8 Tamar Curze. 



though it has been customary from time im- 
memorial to first crucify truth by nailing it to 
the cross of ridicule before embracing it. But, 
as 1 remarked before, D'Herbelot, my friend 
and mentor, commands and I obey — fully pre- 
pared to be called an ass, perhaps worse, for my 
pains;' but, fortunately, distance has other 
charms than mere enchantment, and at the pres- 
ent instance, luckily for me, safety is not the 
least of them. 

As I expect but a dearth of believers, so, for 
those few who have made nature and meta- 
physics a study, for their sake alone, I write, 
stating the actual occurrence. And while being 
fully cognizant that the majority of readers 
resent truth when garbed in fantastic raiment, 
yet may not the student of physical science pre- 
sent, if he so pleases, the result of his researches 
in fanciful attire, his characters in the glow 
of colors preferably to stupid dull browns or 
insipid grays, when by doing so he neglects not 
the chief issue? 

In the delineation of the main personage, 



Tamar Curze. 9 



painted, I must confess, in rather lurid shades, 
I merely follow the course of the novelist's sen- 
timental vagaries, the riotous, florid fling of the 
poet, the whimsical artist — to whom none 
would presume to dictate, when he, slightly 
prodigious with his crimson and gold, chooses 
to deck a glowing sunset in more vivid dress 
than nature's requirements, which act, how- 
ever, accentuates, not changes, the subject, nor 
the mighty composer, whose trills, variations, 
embellish, not detract, interfere nor alter the 
theme of his divine masterpiece. 

May not, then, the humblest literary aspirant, 
meekly following in those illustrious footsteps, 
timidly venture to lower a few prosaic barriers 
and claim the poor privilege of magnifying a 
trifle? For tints and hues are sublime, and 
what is more beautiful than the soft, evanescent, 
albeit decided, colors of the rainbow ? 

Is not Eiction the mother of History ? Must 
we place the child before its parent? And, 
pray, is not "Cinderella," "Beauty and the 
Beast" and other nursery tales founded upon a 



10 Tamar Curze. 



fact basis? Indeed, more frequently than not, 
when traced to the original source, legendary 
tales are not altogether mythical ; while the ma- 
jority of our most successful modern stories, 
excellent, clever productions, freely conceded, 
woven upon the flimsy fabric of unreality, have 
not even the crutch of truth to lean upon. And 
these traditional yarns, scarcely credible in 
most instances, yet in many cases resting upon 
a solid foundation of facts — these so-called fa- 
bles, springing from the threshold of truth — 
elucidate my assertion that Tamar Curze is not 
wholly a fabulous creation. 

I further beg to say, en passant, this being 
merely an incident, not a historical event, I 
have therefore assumed the license of recount- 
ing it as best suits my ideas and purposes ; thus, 
if the minor facts are not strictly accurate, 
surely I am not censurable, and, as the initiated 
will readily understand me, despite various dis- 
crepancies, I will, therefore, refrain from fur- 
ther argumentative debate. 

The subjoined appendage has been very 



Tamar Curze. li 



kindly contributed by Miss Olivia Longnus, si 
most estimable lady, in whose veracity I place 
the most explicit trust and confidence. So, in 
her hands, for the present, I leave you to re- 
sume the thread of this narrative at a later 
date. 

Very truly yours, 

Felix Eossitee, M.D. 



12 Tamar Curze. 



II. 



After some little time spent in nervous de- 
liberation, I have finally concluded to keep my 
promise and give Doctor Rossiter an account of 
my experience while at Glandour Court, and 
whereas I greatly esteem the Doctor as a thor- 
ough gentleman, and whom I, — But, ahem! 
that's another subject, — and as I said before, I 
esteem the Doctor highly, and also for the rea- 
son of his being a friend to the family to which 
this story pertains, I could not consciously re- 
fuse his request — the happenings of which are 
as fresh in my memory as if it were but yester- 
day, though it is now some five years since I 
was employed in the capacity of governess to the 
only child of Sir Lionel and Lady Glandour. 
Glandour Court, the magnificent country seat of 
the Glandours, is but a few hours' ride from 
London. 



Tamar Curze. 13 



When I first became an inmate of the Court, 
its inhabitants were the most happily united 
family in all England. Sir Lionel's affection- 
ate tenderness for his young wife and son was 
self-evident, and I, Olivia Longnus, whose 
heart was well-nigh broken from the recent be- 
reavement of a dear mother, was treated with 
all the consideration and courtesy of a sister by 
the fair, gentle mistress of Glandour Court. 

Dora, Lady Glandour, without being, strictly 
speaking, beautiful, possessed a greater charm; 
she was infinitely sweeter in her fair, pale pret- 
tiness. I am a plain woman and am trying to 
write in a plain, matter-of-fact manner without 
using any nonsensical grandiloquence to assist 
me. Lady Dora was an angel, if ever there was 
one ; to me she was the embodiment of all that 
was good, the epitome of purity, but I will not 
stop to eulogize her, for tears fill my eyes and 
splash upon these pages as I write, so with fer- 
vent, trembling lips I say, "God bless you, Dora 
jGlandour." 

Sir Lionel I will not attempt to describe, at 



14 Tamar Ciirze. 



least not minutely. Tall, dark, handsome, 
proud, hasty, passionate — there he is in six 
:words. 

Besides the above mentioned, there was an- 
other member of the family whom I must not 
omit, Lady Dora's aunt, the Duchess of 
Shrewsburg — aptly named — for a more domi- 
neering, disagreeable old woman never lived. 
I'm certain that no one but Lady Dora or a 
saint straight from heaven could have existed 
in her presence and maintained their equi- 
librium. 

Her Grace — how inappropriate the name 
sounds — had a decided antipathy toward every 
living thing with the sole exception of a dog 
and rakish parrot. Where that bird learned 
those vile epithets is a mystery. For the oaths 
it used would shame a trooper, and, strange, 
too, in exact imitation of its mistress' voice. 
iWhile the dog — a mangy poodle — remarkable 
for its vicious temper and ugliness, but whose 
terrible fate, poor creature, turned whatever 
dislike I had toward it into pity. 



Tamar Curze. 15 

Fortunately, the Duchess was subject to a; 
malady which frequently excluded her from the 
family circle. She had two attendants, Max- 
well, who acted as a sort of general factotum, 
and Lacey, the maid, whose lives the old vixen 
delighted in making miserable. And as she had 
a tendency, when attacked by her enemy, sup- 
pressed gout (the only thing suppressed about 
her) , to fling things around, books, brushes, per- 
fume bottles, whichever came handiest, at the 
heads of these people; they, as a consequence, 
walked in a most peculiar fashion, dodging, 
sidling around, with first one shoulder or arm 
elevated, then the other, to guard against acci- 
dents from the playful hands of their eccentric 
mistress. And, indeed, they had ample cause to 
do so, for once, in passing the open door, I nar- 
rowly escaped a shoe, evidently flung by the 
irate owner in fond anticipation of Maxwell's 
entrance. 

One morning at the breakfast table the butler 
handed Sir Lionel a yellow-tinted envelope. 
Why is it that a yellow envelope always sends a 



16 Tamar Ciirze. 



shudder through me ? And this morning I no- 
ticed it more marked than usual. 

Sir Lionel lazily glanced at the inscription, 
then leisurely proceeded to open it. He could 
scarcely have read more than a couple of lines, 
when, rising hastily from the table, with a 
glance at his wife, — who quickly followed him, 
— he left the room. 

I, sitting alone, regardless of my rapidly 
cooling chocolate, wondered vaguely what the 
news might be, occupying myself meanwhile 
gazing out of the long, low windows to the 
smoothly kept lawn and white marble walk, 
whereon a haughty peacock, his irradiant tail 
expanded to the sun, strutted proudly back and 
forth. From him my glance wandered to the 
rose bushes, which each puff of wind sent in 
showers of pink, yellow and white petals flut- 
tering in the breeze, flecking the short green- 
sward with pretty, delicate tints. 

Through the thickly shaded distance I could 
dimly discern the timid deer, with which Glan- 
dour park abounds. The call and song of birds 



Tamar Curze. It 

were in the morning air, and occasionally my 
eyes caught the bright flash of their brilliant 
wings amongst the trees. 

Still musing on the letter, whose important 
contents had evidently caused my host and 
hostess to slight their meal, I started percepti- 
bly when Lady Dora, softly entering, addressed 
me, saying: 

"Miss Longnus, my husband has just re- 
ceived sad news from India, informing him of 
his uncle's death." 

The yellow letter was in her hand. I re- 
garded it with a strange fascination. It seemed 
to hold me spellbound. She, as if divining my 
desire, smilingly held it toward me. 

It was a brief letter, written in a clear, 
smooth, running French hand, with long, 
thickly crossed t's and the i's heavily dotted. 
It was extremely concise, without the slightest 
trace of grief for the writer's father, and end- 
ing with a fine, bold, black flourish, to which the 
name signed was "Tamar Curze," after reading 
which I felt an indescribable impulse to fold 



18 Tamar Curze. 



Lady Dora in my arms and shield her from 
some deadly unseen danger; ah! would that I 
had; but, controlling my emotion, I managed 
to say: "Tamar Curze! What a most peculiar 
name." 

"Yes," replied her Ladyship, "it is. You 
perceive by this letter that she. Sir Lionel's 
cousin, according to a sacred agreement be- 
tween their parents years ago, is coming to make 
her home with us. Poor girl ! She is entirely 
alone now. Her mother died at her birth." 

As a rule, I am not given to imaginary fan- 
cies, nor am I at all superstitious, but, notwith- 
standing, a thrill of something — impossible to 
explain— passed through me, chilling me to the 
heart, as I, with difficulty, asked: 

"When does she arrive?" quite forgetting I 
had but just read the letter. 

"Almost any day," answered Lady Dora, not 
noticing my mental abstraction, and ringing for 
hot chocolate; "these foreign mails are invaria- 
bly more or less late, and this letter," glancing 
at the postmark, "is no exception to the general 



Tamar Curze. 19 



rule. It has been delayed three days, so I pre- 
sume we may expect her at any time from now 
on." 

Sir Lionel's entrance at this moment put an 
end to further conjecture or discussion upon the 
subject. 



20 Tamar Curze. 



III. 

Subsequent to the foregoing conversation, 
after a restless, perturbed day — for it was now 
late in the afternoon — I was alone in my cham- 
ber, that room so cheerful, comfortable, nay, by 
Lady Dora's bounty and thoughtfulness, luxu- 
riously furnished, with its rich upholstery, 
costly knick-knacks — dainty trifles conspiring 
to make my life contented, almost happy. 

For the thousandth time I was vainly en- 
deavoring to analyze the condition of my mind, 
fathom that vague, affrighted pain, which had 
given me no rest since reading the letter from 
India, causing this medley of disquieting 
thoughts blended in such a haze of indiscernible, 
tantalizing shadows, with which the very air it- 
self seemed filled till the stress of it became un- 
endurable. 

IsTever prone to imaginary fancies, my nature. 



Tamar Curze. 21] 



on the contrary, from earliest childhood, was 
thoroughly practical ; therefore, these sensations 
were an enigma to me. 

Behind the range of my mental penetration 
there crouched some hidden, hideous thing that 
I could not cope with. Yet the more I pon- 
dered the more deeply immersed I became, till, 
striving to escape its thraldom, I severely repri- 
manded myself by vehemently ejaculating: 

"Fie ! Olivia Longnus, you're a goose, a silly, 
imaginative goose, to sit here like a foolish child 
concocting hobgoblins out of nothing," and me- 
chanically I moved across to where my mother's 
loved face, from the easel opposite, smiled ten- 
derly upon me. 

Bending, I kissed the dear mute lips, whicH 
act seemed, for the nonce at least, to relieve the 
heavy oppression at my heart ; but even this was 
meagre consolation, for intuitively my eyes were 
impelled to seek another portrait — a girlish 
countenance resembling some pretty, delicate 
flower, occupying a conspicuous place upon my 
desk — Lady Dora; and as I gazed, a mellow 



22 Tamar Curze. 



rift of light from one of the windows lent a 
symbolic halo to her brow, a fitting tribute. 

ISTevertheless, as I looked, my recent fears re- 
turned tenfold; for in the clear depths of those 
wistful blue eyes, holding me riveted with their 
intensity, there seemed to be a pathetic appeal 
to me for aid, causing my heart to yearn in ma- 
ternal solicitude over her whom I would so 
gladly shield; aye! even with my life protect 
from every vexation, ill or peril, smooth, sweep 
each thorn, stone of sorrow from out the path 
of her sweet existence, with the faithful broom 
of love. 

Presumptuous feelings, surely, for a humble 
nursery governess to entertain toward the high- 
born Lady of Glandour; notwithstanding, I 
slipped upon my knees, praying earnestly, a tri- 
fle incoherently, perhaps, to be delivered from 
this instinctive dread that was so heavy upon 
me. How long I knelt there is irrelevant, when 
my prayers and cogitations were interrupted by 
light laughter and the sound of voices. 



Tamar Curze. 23 



And, there, as I stood watching them beneath 
the lindens, all the warmth, glory of that June 
day seemed centered in those two. The sight 
consoled me, even as the languorous odor of jes- 
samine, violets and hyacinths greeting me from 
below revived my drooping spirits. 

Totally inadequate is my poor pen to depict 
the happiness on Lady Dora's face. All life's 
joy apparently enveloped her, as she strolled 
by the side of her handsome young husband — 
handsomer than ever that afternoon, with his 
air of proud distinction, his dark face aglow 
with love, as he bent his tall head, listening with 
courteous interest, intent upon her every word. 

As they pass an immense bush of crimson 
loses saucily tossing their gaudy heads, its 
thorns catch, sweep the soft folds of her lady- 
ship's diaphanous gown into a tight embrace, 
holding her a laughing captive, and stubbornly 
resisting by sundry jealous pricks and scratches 
all Sir Lionel's heroic efforts at liberation, 
which task by patience being accomplished, how- 
ever, the deliverer, as punishment, selecting, 



24 Tamar Curze. 



steals a half-blown bud from the audacious 
jailer. 

Skirting the terrace, they paused beneath the 
swaying acacia trees, whose creamy blossoms 
sprinkled Lady Dora's shoulders, strewing her 
blue gown as with snow flakes, and settling, 
rested, as with a blessing, upon her golden head, 
till a playful breath from Sir Lionel's lips sent 
them flying, scattered in a thousand different 
directions, while he gallantly replaced them 
with the rosebud, whose long stem he deftly 
slipped amid the shining coils of hair. 

The faint breeze seemed filled with triumph- 
ant ecstasy, and in the melodious confusion of 
sound predominated the soft, endearing cry of 
the wood doves, ending a sweet, low trernulo of 
cooing conjugal love confidences. The woods 
were harmoniously fraught with many different 
notes, each songster vieing to outdo the other in 
this divine interpretative cadence of subdued 
song, mingled, marred somewhat, by the shrill, 
restless twitter of nesting birds. 

AH, everything seemed redolent with peace, 



Tamar Cnrze. 25 



happiness. The sun shone henlgnantly warm 
upon the gorgeous roses, lingering, as if loth to 
depart, caressingly ahout the lilacs and tall, 
white lilies growing near. While heyondj 
stretched the shadowy forest, which little Cyril, 
a philosopher in most things, though somewhat 
of a dreamer, firmly asserted was inhabited by 
gnomes and pixies, stoutly maintaining that, 
hidden behind the border of hollyhocks, he and 
Trust, his dog, had peeped, seen them dance, 
and heard the faint, sweet music of their elfin 
flutes. 

A natural, delusive belief which many a fully 
matured mind could easily give credence, for 
within those dim, mysterious depths abounded 
cool, dark pools, grassy hollows, narrow, soft, 
sun-bathed vistas, and further down, amid the 
spaces of those gnarled, crooked old tree-trunks, 
covered with thick, green mold, there was a ver- 
dant clearing like a great canopied hall hung 
with voluminous blue and purple banners, be- 
neath whose floor, covered with an emerald car- 
pet, was powdered with golden stars. 



26 Tamar Curze. 



Truly an ideal retreat, wherein wee Queen 
Mab, surrounded by dryads and other wood- 
land nymphs, held court, and her tiny follow- 
ers sported, showing an occasional glimpse of 
nimble, glinting feet or a bewitching sight of 
green petticoat beneath a silver kirtle. 

A charming background, truly, for them who, 
still sauntering, paused, and then, as if sud- 
denly moved by love's compulsion, drew closer 
together, hesitated, the delicate pink in my 
Lady's cheek deepening, as both, casting a fur- 
tive glance about, their lips met in a hasty kiss, 
after which, like a veritable pair of country rus- 
tics, these wedded lovers passed from view. 

And, as they disappeared, I smiled in happy 
unison. All my recent cloudy thoughts melting, 
vanished under the warm, bright sunshine of 
their delight. 



Tamar Curze. 2% 



IV. 



A few days following, while occupied with 
Cyril, Mrs. Diinlap, the housekeeper, entered 
hastily, and in a great flutter of importance, 
without any preliminary explanation, ex- 
claimed : 

"They've come!" 

"They've come," I inquiringly repeated, 
"who?" 

"They— the Indians." 

"Indians?" 

"Yes, Miss," a trifle impatiently, "the East 
Indians." 

"Oh!" replied I, smiling at my stupidity, 
"you doubtless mean Miss Curze — Sir Lionel's 
cousin; she is not an Indian." 

"Well," answered Mrs. Dunlap, with an em- 
phatic nod, "the one that I was ordered to show 
to the west wing was an Indian, sure enough. 



28 Tamar Curze. 



or my name isn't Jemima Dunlap; and black, 
too, black as," looking around for a comparison, 
"that dress you're wearing." 

"It must be her maid," I ventured, "or ser- 
vant of some sort." 

"Perhaps," doubtfully, "yet the very idea of 
a human person having an Indian to wait on 
'em! An African negro is bad enough, Lord 
knows, but an Indian, ugh !" 

Now, I'm rarely given to gossip, or to en- 
courage it in others, but my feminine inquisi- 
tiveness in this case got the upper hand, forcing 
me to ask as calmly as I possibly could : 

"Did you see — er — the other one ?" 

"JSTo, Miss ; she was sitting in the library with 
her back turned when " 

"Oh, it doesn't signify," I interrupted hastily 
to hide my disappointment. A devouring curi- 
osity was consuming me, however, regarding 
this girl from India, but I replied with well- 
assumed indifference, "We will see her soon 
enough, no doubt, as she is to remain here at the 
Court indefinitely." 



Tamar Curze. 29 



"Heaven forbid !" expostulated Mrs. Dunlap, 
with upraised hands and eyes, and in amaze- 
ment I perceived that, by a strange coincidence, 
this sensible, matter-of-fact woman shared my 
forebodings in regard to the visitor, whose ar- 
rival I now looked upon with a more philosophi- 
cal eye, while, nevertheless, recognizing the era 
of some new influence, something that would 
change forever the present tranquil routine, and 
Glandour become dramatic with many of life's 
complications. 

For several days I did not join the family at 
meals ; the stranger's presence seemed, in a man- 
ner, to place a barrier between our former pleas- 
ant intercourse of cordial equality, and for the 
first time since my advent I shyly realized my 
inferior position, not in Lady Dora's attitude — 
she was as sweetly gracious as ever, God bless 
her! — ^but there was a peculiar restraining in- 
fluence of weird unreality about the place since 
the coming of Sir Lionel's cousin. 



30 Tamar Curze. 



y. 



Hurriedly crossing the hall one morning, I 
ran against a queer old woman, who, from Mrs. 
Dunlap's description, I concluded must be Miss 
Curze's attendant, and later that same day, pass- 
ing through the drawing-room, I saw Tier. She 
was sitting or, to be more explicit, reclining 
upon a low couch, and at my entrance, started 
ever so slightly, while I, an involuntary ex- 
clamation of surprise escaping me, quickly cov- 
ered both eyes with my hands ; then, ashamed of 
the childish action, stammered awkwardly: 

"Pardon me. Miss — Miss Curze, I believe." 

"Yes," curtly, with a slow, imperious glance 
of survey, "and you, I presume, are the gov- 
erness." 

I jumped at the peculiarity of her curiously 
sweet voice, which had a most decided lisp at 
the turn of a sentence. Bowing acquiescence, 



Tamar Curze. 31 



my eyes were fixed in helpless fascination upon 
this woman's bizarre beauty — barbaric splen- 
dor; I never saw a human creature anything 
like her. 

The hair, growing rampantly loose in stub- 
born, crispy strands about her extremely small 
head, and springing upward, spirally out from 
the low, white forehead, was the oddest, most 
beautiful hair I ever saw — not one color, but 
mixed light gold, dark brown — the queerest 
combination imaginable, yet forming the su- 
preme charm of this magnificent face. 

Her complexion was of downy whiteness, but 
those eyes, so wonderfully scintillant — where 
had I seen them or others similar before ? At- 
tractive, repellant, and yellow, yes, yellow as 
saffron, above which the heavy, indolent lids 
only partly lifted, disclosed the pupils beneath, 
neither round nor oblong, mere straight black 
threads slanting downward. On the lobe of the 
right ear, upon the left temple, and almost at 
the end of the deeply cleft chin, were three large 
brown moles. 



32 Tamar Curze. 



One hand, beautiful to behold, was in plain 
view, the smooth, tapering fingers suggestive of 
suppressed strength, but marred by the disfigur- 
ing nails, which grew thick, ending in a long, 
sharp point at the tips. 

She was clothed in a bewildering gown of 
some amber-hued Eastern material, whose shim- 
mering folds, occasioned by the wearer's recum- 
bent position, were tightly drawn about her, re- 
vealing the slender body, shapely limbs to per- 
fection. 

Showing just the sharp edges of her small, 
white teeth, she smiled as if slightly amused at 
my perplexity, and said : 

"If you are looking for Lady Dora, you'll 
most likely find her in the conservatory." 

And evidently intending this as my dismissal, 
she again stretched herself, animal-like, every 
movement grace incarnate, upon the sofa ; while 
I, as if under a spell, my heart beating, my will 
paralyzed with the magic beauty of her voice, at- 
tempted to leave the room, and, despite my ob- 
stinate, reluctant feet, had almost reached the 



Tamar Curze. 83 

threshold, when, rendered utterly powerless by 
something which prevented me from moving 
further — some actual bodily presence which 
barred my exit, and before which I cowered in 
a confusion of terror and pain, until an over- 
whelming impulse compelling me, I turned dep- 
recatingly toward Miss Curze, who, to enhance 
my horror, was standing straight in the middle 
of the room, convulsed with silent laughter. 



34 Tamar Curze. 



VI. 



I, being skeptically inclined, therefore indif- 
ferent to all such notions, never had much fancy 
for the strange or mystical, nor hitherto any pa- 
tience with those who dabbled in the supernatu- 
ral ; no, not even when, through genuine admira- 
tion, I was frequently forced to listen delight- 
edly to Professor D'Herbelot's many substantive 
argumentations in support of his advanced 
thoughts, wonderful, far-fetched theories, plau- 
sible enough when logically couched, so per- 
suasively eloquent, though, in most instances, at 
the conclusion thereof, to me, quite incompre- 
hensible. 

That there were certain various conditions of 
different minds prompted by another's mental 
machinery, I always firmly believed, but beyond 
that, no more. !Now, however, my thoughts re- 
garding the subject have undergone a radical 



Tamar Curze. 35 



change. The ground for reflection upon these 
peculiarities is vast indeed, and truth in super- 
stition indisputable, else what powerful hand 
had thrown that clairvoyant rope of flame which 
passed unseared, unresponsive countless places 
to ignite, unite faculties so widely different as 
ours, Mrs. Dunlap's and mine, two women 
whose moods, ideas, from every conceivable 
standpoint, were wholly dissimilar? 

Surely the above theory is the only one offer- 
able, and thus our mutual affection for Dora 
Glandour explained the bond of this secret al- 
legiance. 

It is startling to encounter reality with our 
dream, and I, now, after confronting it, experi- 
enced a tempestuous whirl of unleashed, uncon- 
trollable thoughts, rushing pell-mell in every 
unexplorable direction, yet not to be gotten rid 
of, ever returning to that woman's weird beauty, 
whose name, by some caprice of nature, the 
birds in song reiterated, all trees, bushes at- 
tuned to their rustling leaves. The morning 
air, puffing in with demoniacal playfulness. 



36 Tamar Curze. 



tossed it to me. An icy breath whispered it per- 
sistently. The breast of the forest moaned it. 

But, worse than all, and at which my fears, 
despair increased, I could swear that from out 
the massive woods, solemnly a slow, heavy bell 
was mournfully tolling a dirge to the ceaseless 
repetition of "Tamar Curze, Tamar Curze," 
the wailing monotony of which maddened me, 
and to escape hence, I fled, seeking refuge, pos- 
sibly consolation, with Mrs. Dunlap, whom I 
found, as expected, in her cosy sitting-room, 
busily stitching upon a snowy pile of household 
linen. 

As she raised her kindly face in smiling wel- 
come, I observed a troubled look in the mild blue 
eyes, and the recent tracery of an unaccustomed 
frown still visible across her smooth, white fore- 
head; whilst the hair, arranged with such pre- 
cision beneath the neat cap, appeared a trifle 
grayer. 

Without broaching the reason of my hurried 
visit, although anxious to do so, I drew a chair 
close to the table, and seating myself, industri- 



Tamar Curze. 37 



ously commenced creasing hems, working fever- 
ishly, swiftly, silently till quite unconsciously a 
sudden long sigh escaped me, to be instantly 
echoed by another equally doleful from Mrs. 
Dunlap, at which I seized the longed-for oppor- 
tunity and remarked : 

"I've had a foolish feeling of depression over 
me lately, Mrs. Dunlap." 

"And I over me, Miss," apologetically, "these 
several days past." 

"Can you explain it, and why we are both af- 
fected in the same manner ?" I asked. 

"No, Miss, I can't imagine. I've thought 
about the matter, but for the life of me don't 
understand it, unless," doubtfully, answered the 
good woman, "it's our livers." 

"Our livers! Why, Mrs. Dunlap, how can 
those organs possibly interfere with our mental 
faculties ?" 

"They do, indeed, though," with conviction. 
"Seth, my late husband, who was somewhat of a 
doctor, and, if I do say it, as handsome a man 
as you ever set eyes on, used to declare that a 



38 Tamar Ciirze. 



healthy liver made healthy bodies, healthy 
bodies healthy minds, and that the cause of 
more than half the ills of the world was the 
work of a torpid or diseased liver. He used to 
say, too, poor dear, that it was the human 
barometer, and vowed he could even tell by its 
actions exactly how the wind blew." 

More truth than poetry, perhaps, in this 
homely logic, still I maintained other views, 
and couldn't altogether convert them to Seth's 
way of thinking. 

"And, now, come to look," said Mrs. Dunlap, 
"you do seem thin and sallow-like;" then, 
quickly enthused with the idea, "Yes, my dear, 
it's the liver, sure enough. Ah! I've just hap- 
pened to think, there is something on that up- 
per shelf, a speedy regulator, which Doctor 
Rossiter gave me, bless him, the last time he was 
here. You're taller than I, just hand it down, 
dearie, and we'll both take some now, this very 
instant." 

I reached as directed, and lifted down the 



Tamar Curze. 39 



huge, tightly sealed bottle, exclaiming at sight 
of the horrible, brown, nasty looking mixture : 

"Ugh! Mrs. Dunlap, do you really believe 
this is what we require ?" 

"Yes," decidedly. 

"But," I demurred lamely, "I hardly think 
we'll be able to remove the cork." 

"IsTonsense !" chided she, instantly procuring 
a corkscrew from some mysterious recess, and, 
deftly opening the bottle, poured out a table- 
spoonful. I, without any exaggeration, had 
never seen such an immense spoon before, nor 
since, which she held temptingly, nay, authori- 
tatively, just beneath my nose. 

"Er! Haven't you made a mistake, dear 
Mrs. Dunlap ?" I cried, catching a whiff of the 
nauseating decoction; "is it not" — pleadingly 
— "a teaspoonful that " 

"No, no, see! here it says plain as day, 'an 
adult, one tablespoonful,' tut, tut, quick, down 
with it, child. I've a little currant jam," con- 
ciliatingly, "and it'll take the taste away in an 
instant." 



40 Tamar Curze. 



So, knowing further subterfuge and protests 
would be unavailable, closing my eyes, I hero- 
ically swallowed the loathsome stuff, which al- 
most choked me. 

"There's an empty bottle here," continued 
my well-meaning tormentor. "I'll fill it, and 
whenever you feel another attack coming on, be 
sure and take some." 

That bottle, I blush to say, was, by me, at the 
very first opportunity, thrown into the kitchen- 
garden, where, no doubt, safely hidden amongst 
the lettuce and cabbages, it reposes to this day. 



Tamar Curze. 41 



VII. 

Miss Curze, whose objective presence was 
now inconvertible, visible, tangible, which in- 
evitable fact I had to accept with as good grace 
as possible, brought to Glandour the new, en- 
trancing flavor of a foreign clime. 

There was, undoubtedly, great magnetic 
power in her beauty — an exotic, subtle meaning 
in her inscrutable eyes. To me, there appeared 
a mysterious object in all her indolent move- 
ments, languid actions; and, although strongly 
disapproving it, I must acknowledge there was 
a most peculiar grace in the wanton drapery of 
her gowns, which, in color, seemingly ran to 
yellow and maize. 

A fortnight had now elapsed; events pro- 
gressed without any bpecial importance, noth- 
ing transpiring to give occasion for my fore- 
bodings; those gloomy presentiments, however, 



42 Tamar Curze. 

nothing could entirely allay, and every trifling 
incident would instantly cause a smouldering, 
unextinguishable spark to burst into swift, ap- 
prehensive flame. 

But I was surely an alarmist, however, for 
there were few changes wrought; even the sev- 
eral fetes and balls planned in the visitor's 
honor, were, by her urgent request, cancelled. 
Therefore the beautiful old place was almost as 
quiet, peaceful as ever. 

With the servants Miss Curze was unap- 
proachable, still this did not deter them from 
busily concerning themselves with her. 

Thus, meeting the stranger but rarely, never- 
theless, I frequently heard rumors connected 
with and regarding her many eccentricities, 
numerous likes and dislikes, the former being 
an inordinate fondness for Lucifer, a wild, un- 
tamed horse, who had hitherto ran at will in one 
of the adjoining paddocks, which she, appar- 
ently without any effort, instinctly conquered, 
controlled and claimed. 



Tamar Ciirze. i^S 



The girl's hatred for music was also com- 
mented on, and it was said that when Lady 
Dora happened to touch the piano, Miss Curze, 
clapping both hands to her ears, screamed as if 
in agony. 

Sir Lionel was strongly devoted to the chase, 
and now, since his cousin's arrival, seemingly, 
became a keener sportsman than ever. They 
both spent much time in the saddle, riding reg- 
ularly to hounds. Lady Dora, being in delicate 
health, never accompanied them. 

Miss Curze, a most superb horsewoman, was 
almost invariably in at the death, seldom fail- 
ing to bring home the brush, of which trophies 
she soon possessed a score. 

Lady Dora asked me one morning if I had 
any objection to giving up my rooms in the 
west wing, stating as a reason Miss Curze ex- 
pressed a desire to exchange with me the eastern 
wing for the west. 

I informed her Ladyship that I would gladly 
make the change, for, indeed, I had always felt 
somewhat timid in these rooms, owing to the 



44: Tamar Curze. 



fact that there was an outside stairway leading 
into the grounds. 

After thanking me in her usual gracious man- 
ner, Lady Dora further stated that, if it waa 
convenient, her guest wished to occupy the 
apartments that same night, to which request I 
again readily assented; and, with one of the 
maid's assistance, I straightway gathered to- 
gether my possessions, preparatory to vacate. 

The old Ayah had already commenced carry- 
ing in some of her mistress' belongings, conspic- 
uous amongst which was a large leopard skin, 
and at my astonished exclamation of delight, 
proudly nodded her turbaned head, saying: 

"Yes, Mem-Sahib," proceeding to spread it 
with much pride and care upon the couch, while 
telling me in her broken English of a pet leop- 
ard, a beautiful, tame cheetah, which, twenty 
years ago, belonged to Tamar's mother, and, 
strange to say, was accidentally wounded and 
died the very hour Miss Curze was born. 

"Why does she carry it around with her ?" I 



Tamar Curze. 46 



asked, admiringly eyeing the glossy, handsome 
yellow and brown thing. 

To which question, however, the woman im- 
perturbably shook her head, without vouchsafing 
further answer. 

My life thereafter narrowed into the few dull 
duties which occupied those dreary hours. A 
sudden sense of loneliness overwhelmed me, 
and, yes, I might as well confess, if you haven't 
already guessed it, there was a faint tinge of 
jealousy underlying all. 

Thus my days, for lack of interest, were 
passed listlessly, and, at night, my trance-like 
sleep was filled with fantastic dreams, misty 
visions, in which Miss Curze predominated ; her 
face seemed to hover over my pillow, till I 
would awaken in a cold perspiration, quaking 
with terror. 

I did not then possess the self-reliance which 
I have since acquired, attained through the re- 
markable events and sorrows which I have 
passed, and taught me now to put trust in my 
own conclusions and intuitions. 



'46 Tamar Curze. 



These nightly horrors were speedily under- 
mining my health and reason, while those pre- 
cedent fears, instead of lessening, increased; 
and to assuage them, I had almost decided to go, 
leave Glandour Court and all my silly hallucina- 
tions forever behind me, for I had grown 
wearied of it all, and while in these morbid 
moods, would bitterly conjecture that I was but 
a stranger, a hireling, not united to these people 
by the frailest thread. We could easily sepa- 
rate; I would depart, battle against poverty 
amid other scenes, environments. 

But then, on the other hand, looking back 
through the many pleasant months passed be- 
neath that hospitable roof, I hesitated, discon- 
solate, knowing full well that my forlorn heart 
belonged, root and branch, to Lady Dora and 
her child, clinging to them with indomitable 
tenacity, and the knowledge of that affection en- 
tering my dark circle of thoughts, illuminated, 
disclosed the weary path beyond, from which 
my timid feet shrank. 



Tamar Curze. '4:1 



VIII. 

At this juncture the Duchess, whether she 
considered things a trifle monotonous, and to re- 
lieve the prevailing tedium, was suddenly seized 
with one of her tantrums; and as a usual con- 
sequence in such cases, what with the flurry, 
scurry of hurrying feet, the thud, crash of fly- 
ing missiles, combined with the discordant 
screeching of Ladybird, the parrot, and the 
poodle's incessant yelping, everything was in 
an uproar. 

These two miserable creatures, the bird and 
dog, invariably took advantage of such oppor- 
tunities, perchance out of sympathy for their 
mistress, which I doubt, or goodness knows 
what, to behave on those occasions worse, if that 
were possible, than ever, and seemingly taking 
an impish delight in contributing to the general 
confusion. 



48 Tamar Curze. 



An hour or so later, after matters had quieted 
down somewhat, Lacey tapped on my door, with 
the request that I should read to her mistress. 

A thankless task, and, from experience, one 
which I had ample cause to dread, as the 
Duchess generally amused herself by picking 
flaws with, and mimicking my enunciation, of 
which I am, and with just cause, somewhat 
modestly proud, not to mention the exasperat- 
ing, sarcastic way she had of addressing me, 
which I naturally, though secretly, resented. 

I knew by Lacey's actions that her Grace was 
in one of her most villainous moods, for the 
poor thing wiggled and squirmed most pain- 

fully. 

"You see, Miss," said she, "it's not only the 
toe trouble, but it's disappointment, too, in not 
being able to dine below this evening, as Lord 
Mayfair, a former suitor of Lady Dora's, and 
the Professor, I understand, are to be here." 

I understood, too, for the Duchess was a vain 
old woman, who in her youth must have been a 
great beauty, judging by her portrait in the gal- 



Tamar Curze. 49 



lery, and would still be passable, if she hadn't 
taken to cosmetics and a red wig, and from 
various little inklings, I learned had at one 
time, and probably still retained, a decided pen- 
chant for handsome Professor D'Herbelot, 
whom 'twas her delight to contradict upon every 
available opportunity. 

"And, another thing, Miss," said Lacey, 
"there's a board loose in the boudoir, which I 
must take the liberty to caution you about, for 
if one happens to step there the creaking sends 
her Grace into paroxysms of pain, to say noth- 
ing of anger. It is directly beneath the third 
rose to the left in the carpet. Please," earnestly, 
"do avoid it by all means." 

"Thank you, Lacey, I'll try to remember," I 
answered, quaking inwardly, and accordingly 
prepared for the worst. For this at the begin- 
ning was, to say the least, discouraging. 

There was really nothing obligatory about my 
obeying the Duchess' mandate, but to relieve 
my present ennui I decided to do her bidding, 
and by doing so found ample confirmation of all 



50 Tamar Curze. 



my fears, for she was more cantaiikerous, capri- 
cious, harder to please than ever, and it was 
only with the utmost difficulty I could restrain 
my temper, as she said: 

"So you've condescended to come at last, have 
you?" 

Ignoring this snappish greeting, I silently se- 
lected a book from amongst a number upon the 
table, and opening it, seated myself. 

"What's that you've got there?" she de- 
manded. 

"Tennyson," I briefly replied. 

"Then you can put him down again. I'd 
sooner listen to the rhymes of Mother Goose! 
Tennyson be blowed ! Who wants to hear about 
lily white does and roses in his floating hair, 
or any such inane nonsense ?" 

At this onslaught against my favorite poet, I 
felt my good temper tottering, but, biting the 
tip of my tongue to keep the sharp words back, 
I, with a spasmodic effort, managed to maintain 
my quietude, and laying the volume down, 



Tamar Curze. 51 



meekly asked with nervous repression for her 
preference. 

"Byron ; there it is, on the top, right before 
your eyes." 

Opening it, I proceeded in my very best man- 
ner, but had scarcely read a line from the 
"Bride of Abydos," when she commanded me 
to stop, saying: 

^'Kindly allow me to choose the subject!" 

"With pleasure," I answered patiently. 
"Pray, what shall it be ?" 

"Don Juan!" promptly. 

This was the last straw. At mention of the 
shameless thing, the hot blood rushing to my 
cheeks, I indignantly arose in my wrath, and 
unluckily, forgetting Lacey's warning, stepped 
upon the loose board. Ko sooner had I done so, 
when, with a yell of rage, the Duchess lifted a 
glass, containing some vile sediment of stale 
liquor at the bottom, intending to throw it at 
my head, but, fortunately, in the nick of time, 
changing her mind, flung it at the parrot in- 
stead, who, evidently accustomed to such things, 



62 Tamar Curze. 



escaped injury by nimbly hopping aside — an ex- 
tremely difficult, dexterous feat, which could 
only have been acquired through long and faith- 
ful practice. 

"Hey, day ! You won't, eh, Miss Prudery V* 
laughed the horrid old dame, highly delighted, 
now that she had accomplished her purpose by 
causing my discomfiture, taking a huge pinch 
of snuff, and then almost sneezing her disagree- 
able head off, I almost wishing she would. 

As she sat there chuckling and laughing, the 
shrill blare of a distant horn seemed suddenly 
to change her mood. 

"Ach, ach !" she grinned, slowly winking one 
eye, it's cakes and ale no longer for the 
smaller fry now; eh!" her fiery wig awry. 

Was she going mad ? forgetting my recent 
outraged feelings. Resuming my seat, I sat 
and stared, till, quickly leaning forward, she 
rapped my knees smartly with the tip of her 
cane. 

"Eh! Miss Prudery, while the watch-dog 



Tamar Ciirze. 63 



sleeps in its kennel, the yellow cat has now the 
warmest corner at the hearth and " 

"Yellow cat, yellow cat!" harshly repeated 
Ladybird, "throw her out neck and crop," 

"Ho, ho, ha, ha! Perhaps I ought to hold 
my tongue," continued her Grace, lighting a 
cigarette, and deliberately puffing the smoke in 
my face. "You needn't sit there and glare, you 
sulky thing, I'm not to blame if the shoe pinches 
nor am I giving any names, hee, hee ! but you'll 
doubtless know my meaning soon enough, since 
it's only a question of time, ach, ach! a very 
short time, so I'll say no more at present, my 
dear Miss Prudery." 

And then I almost jumped from my chair, 
when, as if prompted by some psychic force, 
that abominable bird, with weirdly clear enunci- 
ation, loudly declaimed: 

"Tell it not in Gath, whisper it not in the 
streets of Askelon." 

And as my heart and head throbbed, again 
came that sharp hunting call, which seemed 
analagous with those thoughts clambering over 



54 Tamar Curze. 



the outer rim of my mind — a vast, struggling 
crowd of cloaked phantoms slowly blending into 
one great fearful reality. 

Seated there in silence, numb beneath the 
Duchess' mocking eyes, I could hear the sharp, 
eager bark of the yelping pack, and, as if in a 
mirage, view the panoramic scene, my gaze wan- 
dering into space, beheld the scarlet-coated men 
and several women, their loosened tresses and 
habits flying in the early evening breeze! As, 
against the red glow of the setting sun, the 
shadowy riders, pausing upon the hilltops, were 
plainly silhouetted ere swiftly descending to the 
clearing. 

Riding close together were two figures, dim, 
undistinguishable at first, later growing more 
vivid, whom in the tall, erect form of the man 
I easily recognized Sir Lionel, and, by the 
graceful pose of the woman's slender form, his 
companion, Miss Curze, as, side by side, far in 
advance of the others, they steadily flew in pur- 
suit of the distressed fox. 

"What is more exhilarating than the splendid 



Tamar Curze. 55 



chase of Actium by blood-hounds, eh?" asked 
her Grace, wagging her head from side to side, 
"even if it is but a mythical story; yes, the 
great desire for blood, my dear, that same 
worthy desire which crowded the benches of the 
Coliseum to watch a gladiatorial contest, or, bet- 
ter yet, applaud itself mad when the Christian 
prisoners, caught red-handed, faithful to their 
forbidden creed, poor fools! were tossed to the 
hungry lions." 

"Heigho," went on the speaker, callously, 
"those were the times worth living, when 
mighty Tiberius, Caligula and Nero ruled, 
Then one's jaded appetite was satisfied by ac- 
tually witnessing such living agony; but now, 
forsooth! we cannot even look upon a bull- 
fight in Spain or Mexico, innocent pastime, 
which still might in a slight measure answer 
the purpose, without a lot of rubbishing, senti- 
mental censure. 

"Nothing remains now but that," pointing 
toward the window, "the pretty, tame chase of 
a miserable little fox, which, however, is vastly 



56 Tamar Curze. 



better than nothing, for naturally our modern 
pleasure is still to inflict pain, just a slight rem- 
nant of barbaric times, a proof of our inherent 
instincts, nothing more." 

Here she paused, moodily glancing through 
the open window, seemingly plunged in bygone 
memories, then, when once more the horn 
sounded, resumed: 

"On the present occasion, however, the keen- 
ness of the sport is intensified by the reflection 
and fact that the customary position of things 
is reversed for the reason, in this case, only one 
out of many, this Christian country can boast, 
the quarry hunts the hunter." 

With a roaring in my ears as that of a cata- 
ract, I watched the speaker, who, unmindful of 
my interrogative look, carelessly flecked the ash 
from her cigarette against the carved arm of her 
throne-like chair, slyly leered at me with a dev- 
ilish meaning in her wicked old eyes, then, emit- 
ting a whistle with masculine vigor, exclaimed : 

"Fie! Miss Prudery," at the same time lift- 



Tamar Curze. 57 

ing her cane commandingly to check the ques- 
tion she saw. 

For the gray horror of her insinuations, 
causing those self-same vague fancies to leap 
again giddily about in the rear of my mental 
comprehension, I sprang to my feet, exclaiming : 
"Oh ! I cannot bear it ; will your Grace not ex- 
plain ?" clasping the grim old creature's hands ; 
I was very submissive now, and to gain the 
knowledge sought would have gladly acceded to 
almost anything, aye! even to the reading of 
Don Juan. "Do you mean that — that " 

The Duchess, after shaking her hand free 
from my persistent grasp, removed the cigarette 
from her lips, instantly relapsed from her hith- 
erto rigid position, slowly sank back into the ca- 
pacious recess of the chair, while, rapidly over 
her countenance there came a change difficult to 
describe, for within the deep set eyes and the 
withered face strange emotions seemed to min- 
gle, war, pass. The ugly grin vanished to be re- 
placed by another expression, a swift transfer- 



Tamar Curze. 



mation from sinister malicious sarcasm to gen- 
tle, womanly dignity. 

And as we sat in silence, softly patting my 
still detaining hand, she said : 

"Please forgive a crabbed old woman's sense- 
less chatter ; you may go now, my dear, I've tan- 
talized you long enough." 

Fully mollified by these kind words, despite 
the poodle's vicious snap at my heels, or the par- 
rot, who for the past half hour had sat, a round, 
green ball, dozing, now arousing suflBciently 
from her slumber, thrusting her head from be- 
neath her wing, sleepily croaked, "Good rid- 
dance," yes, despite all this, I passed through 
that door with a far more Christian spirit than 
when I entered. 



Tamar Ciirze. 59 



IX. 



Having occasion to visit the servants' hall 
one morning on some mission for Lady Dora, I 
entered unobserved, and found them all assem- 
bled, forming a circle about the Ayah, whom 
they never missed an opportunity to tease, espe- 
cially Mollie, the cook, a great, big, good- 
natured Irishwoman, whose chief delight, seem- 
ingly, was to plague her. 

At this present instant they were ridiculing 
the old woman's native attire and tawdry jew- 
els, of which latter she had quite a lavish sup- 
ply, and of which she seemed inordinately 
proud. 

The Indian, though understanding EnglisK 
very imperfectly, however, evidently compre- 
hended the gist of their meaning, which, indeed, 
required no interpretation, for her little black 
beady eyes darted venomous glances from one 



60 Tamar Curze. 



to the other, sputtering some shrill words of 
rage, as Mollie, snatching her turban and perch- 
ing it jauntily upon her o^vn frowsy head, nim- 
bly executed an Irish jig, with some other 
fancy steps, both fearful and wonderful, 
thrown in amidst hand-clapping, roars of 
laughter from her colleagues, and at which, I re- 
gretfully say, I could not refrain from joining. 

When, suddenly, in the height of it all, Miss 
Curze, like a fury, swept into the room, and, 
taking in at a glance what was going on, with 
one sweep of her arm sent Mollie, who was still 
spinning around on her heel, flying across the 
polished floor. 

As she stood facing the culprits, who quaked 
before her, with her small head thrown back, her 
bosom heaving, a trembling current seemed to 
chase up and about the strong, shapely hips. 

"So," she said, her red lips drawn tight 
across the gleaming teeth, while within her 
blazing eyes tiny yellow flames seemed angrily 
to leap and curl, "so, a laudable pastime, in- 
deed," then unfortunately her glance chanced 



Tamar Curze. 61 



to rest upon me, toward whom she whirled, ''but 
what else can be expected, when your mistress' 
confidant is the instigator ?" 

It is not possible for me to describe the sneer- 
ing insolence of these words, as, with her arms 
about the old woman's shoulders, she disdain- 
fully left us all, guiltily ashamed and crest- 
fallen. 

From that time on, Tamar Curze treated me 
with the utmost rudeness, never missing the 
slightest opportunity to annoy, humiliate me in 
some manner. I should certainly, under such 
circumstances, have left the Court, but Lady 
Dora, who was in a delicate state, begged me so 
earnestly to remain till after her illness, that I, 
loving her with all my heart, reluctantly con- 
sented, though forfeiting my self-esteem by do- 
ing so, for many times that vixen affronted me, 
tried my patience beyond endurance, compelled 
me repeatedly to seek Lady Dora and beg re- 
lease from my promise, but, at sight of my dar- 
ling's dear, patient face, all such angry desires 
^vould flee. 



62 Tamar Curze. 



I knew it was for some inexplicable reason 
the girl's wish that I should leave Glandour. 
However, I stayed on, and that is a consolation 
most dear. 

Lady Dora, Lady Dora! with your infant 
daughter clasped in your soft, white arms, I 
feel your presence strangely near me to-night. 



Tamar Curze. 63 



Passing the Duchess' room one morning I was 
almost knocked off my feet by Maxwell, who, 
rushing frantically forth, followed by Lacey, 
caught my gown, exclaiming: 

"Oh! For mercy's sake! Miss, her Grace is 
most obstreperous, for poor Patrick is " 

A flood of Billingsgate coming from the in- 
terior interrupted Maxwell's further words. 

"Please, do wait a moment. Miss," cried La- 
cey, "Patrick " 

"Well, what about him ?" I asked impatient- 
ly, annoyed at the delay. I cordially detested 
the nasty little wretch and could afford him 
scant attention. "Is he ill ? or " 

"Murdered! cruelly, basely murdered!'* 
screamed the Duchess from inside. 

"Yes," whimpered Lacey. 

"Yes," echoed Maxwell, edging closer to his 



64 Tamar Curze. 



companion, as their mistress still jelled male- 
dictions on every living thing, "he's dead; we 
found 'im lying at the end of the corridor, a 'alf 
hour ago, stone dead." 

"He's probably died from old age," I an- 
swered consolingly, "or else eaten something 
which disagreed with him." 

"No, Miss," answered Lacey, "Patrick was 
but four years old next May, and he only ate 
some cold chicken last evening at the usual 
hour; it couldn't be that, besides " 

"Damnation !" screeched her Grace. "Didn't 
I tell you he was murdered ?" 

"It's the truth, Miss," whispered Maxwell, 
answering my incredulous glance, "the creature 
was killed, his throat torn 'orribly." 

"Killed?" I answered. "What could have 
killed him?" 

"We don't know, I'm sure. Miss," said Lacey, 
"one of the dogs must have sprang through the 
window, which " 

"You lazy hussy forgot to shut," bellowed 



Tamar Curze. 65 



her Grace. "You are a couple of ungrateful, 
vagabond leeches; but, mark my words, not an- 
other shilling, no, not one farthing, shall you 
get from me ; I wash my hands of you. I'll send 
you both packing, bag and baggage ; I'll found a 
lunatic asylum; I'll " 

The rest of this tirade was inaudible, but a 
brush whizzed past us, barely escaping Max- 
well's nose, followed by the Duchess, her red wig 
hindforemost, her cane raised threateningly, at 
which sight the frightened pair instantly fled, 
basely leaving me the sole target of their irate 
mistress' wrath. 

"Eh! Slyboots!" taunted she, pausing upon 
the threshold of her domain, "what brings you 
prowling around here, I'd like to know, unless," 
with a sneer, "you had a hand in my Patrick's 
death ? You always hated him, deny it, if you 
dare." 

To which unjust accusation I hotly retorted : 

"True, I disliked your dog. Madam, but it 
was never my desire to harm him, and it is most 
despicable of you to imagine such a thing." 



66 Tamar Curze. 



And turning angrily away saw Lady Dora 
approaching. 

"What is it?" she asked, hastening forward, 
"something serious, surely, to bring that big 
frown on your forehead, my Olive, and," 
laughing merrily, as she caught sight of the 
Duchess' wig, which had now slipped sideways, 
hanging coquettishly over one ear, "what has 
happened ?" 

Highly incensed at this levity, the Duchess 
stalked angrily back into her chamber, followed 
after an instant's hesitation by Lady Dora, who, 
vainly striving to stifle her mirth, motioned me 
to accompany her. 

"Forgive me, aunt," bending to kiss her 
Grace's scowling brow, "it was rude, thought- 
less of me to " 

"Umph !" shaking the caressing fingers from 
her shoulder, and sinking back into the chair a 
huddled mass, "you are all in league together, 
so enjoy your joke, my dear." 

"A joke ! What joke ?" inquired Lady Dora, 



Tamar Curze. 67 



to whom I then explained the mysterious death 
of Patrick. 

"Aye ! nothing but an ugly little beast," mut- 
tered the Duchess, "an ugly little cur, whom 
every one detested, except a forlorn old woman" 
— the pathos in her voice reproached me. "A 
waste of affection to you, no doubt, my lady, 
who fortunately possess the love of child and 
husband. However, you'd better make the most 
of the latter while it lasts." 

"While it lasts ?" repeated Lady Dora. 

"Yes," answered the Duchess, rearranging 
the silken folds of the bright-hued dressing- 
gown she was wearing, and tilting her wig to a 
sharper angle, her manner flippant, her voice 
more cynical. "Yes, my dear, the staff of a hus- 
band's affection, in nine cases out of ten, is a 
very weak reed to lean upon." 

"For goodness' sake, aunt," laughed Lady 
Dora, shaking her fluffy head in charming dis- 
approval, "what awful things are you thinking 
of?" 

"Merely the inconsistency of ideals." 



68 Tamar Curze. 



"Ideals ! what ideals ?" queried her Ladyship. 

"Woman's ideals, innocent, stupid ideals. 
One which in youth's early morning we invaria- 
bly choose, and as the heathen worships his im- 
age, which for him, more fortunate than we, is 
harmless, so do we poor fools prostrate our- 
selves before this self-created god, and straight- 
way seizing a shuttle, fill it with various silken 
threads, the gaily hued threads of Romance, and 
joyously begin spinning a panoply for our idol. 

"Ah, me, what exquisite fancies, beautiful 
thoughts do we reverently weave into that glit- 
tering mass within whose gossamer folds our 
reason is caught, tangled, lost. How cheerfully, 
tirelessly do we labor, till finally Truth, taking 
pity on our blindness, abruptly lifts that flimsy 
web, and pointing beneath, discloses, to our hor- 
ror, naught but a huge, hideous delusion. 

"Thus, at the lava of youth, the sun of life 
forsakes, leaves us, when love is dead, freezing 
beneath the snows of knowledge, to greet the 
noon of disillusion." 



Tamar Curze. 69 



"You are mistaken, aunt," answered Lady 
Dora gently; "love never dies." 

"Stuff, nonsense!" suddenly squalled Lady- 
bird; "where's Patrick?" 

This startling reminder of her recent grief 
seemed to stir the Duchess' smouldering anger to 
greater heat, for she snapped: 

"Love dies. I speak from experience, having 
learned my lesson thoroughly. "Yes," leaning 
forward, both elbows on knees, "that bitter les- 
son, which you, my pet, have yet to learn, aye, 
when Shrewsburg, the brute, slighted, neglected 
me for that shameless trollop, Moll Darby, the 
vile creature, who kept the tongues of two conti- 
nents wagging with her escapades ; soit ! Had I 
my youth again, but, bah! It's a one-sided af- 
fair, this world, for Duty shakes her fist in a 
woman's face, while lightly condoning a man's 
misdeeds, and " 

"Silence! you old jackass," rudely inter- 
rupted the parrot, at which rebuff Lady Dora 
and I laughed right heartily. 

"Oh!" apologetically cried her Ladyship, 



70 Tamar Curze. 



brushing the tears of merriment from her lashes, 
and shaking a reproving finger at the bird, 
"Ladybird is such a chatterbox." 

"Yes, laugh, jeer!" cried her Grace, in cha- 
grin, "but, have a care, my Lady of Glandour, 
or your laughter may turn to tears before long." 

"Where's Patrick?" again asked that exas- 
perating bird. "Patrick !" she called, evidently 
bent upon irritating the Duchess, "Patrick!" 
in tones of mock grief, then snickering provok- 
ingly, as she deftly turned a somersault upon 
the bar of her perch, "Pat " 

"Shut up, you imp of Satan," furiously or- 
dered the Duchess. "You hated him, too, aye !" 
sighing aggressively, "why is it that hate lives 
and love dies ?" 

"You are mistaken, aunt," answered Lady 
Dora, firmly, "I tell you again, love never dies." 

"It doesn't, eh? Then," brusquely, "if it 
doesn't die outright, it becomes stale, which is 
ten thousand times worse; yes, stale — stale as 
those violets pinned to your bosom, regarding 
which I would give you a word of advice; re- 



Tamar Curze. 71 



move the silly things, before some one becomes 
sick, sated with their odor." 

"Some one," repeated Lady Dora, without 
taking the meaning of her look. 

"Aye, a very dear some one ; there's too much 
sameness about violets, pretty enough things, no 
disputing, but with which every lackadaisical 
story, sentimental novel reeks. Love and vio- 
lets, violets and love, violet gowns, violet per- 
fumes, violet breaths, violets faded, fresh vio- 
lets, dewy violets, they deluge, pelt us with them 
till we read through a purple haze, love, violets 
from cover to cover, faugh ! each as ephemeral 
as the other. I prefer a sprig of marjoram, 
musk or mignonette, these are filled with spice 
and charm; therefore, I warn you, choose an- 
other gown, another flower of a different color ; 
marigolds, for instance, are pretty, and yellow 
is " 

"For jealousy, so they say," laughed Lady 
Dora, fondly toying with her wedding ring, 
"but, thank heaven, I have no cause nor fear of 
that." 



72 Tamar Curze. 



"Don't be too sure, my dear," dryly; "Mrs. 
Grundy is a deep one; but Madam Gossip car- 
ries queer tales, and she whispers that thistles 
are growing amongst the roses, and one love 
drives out another, so " 

"Yellow cat, yellow cat!" warbled Ladybird, 
"throw her out, neck and crop." 

"There are two things a man requires, which 
to him are as essential as light and air," con- 
tinued her Grace; "one is freedom, the other 
variety ; but, in fact, what a man most admires, 
demands in woman is a — a little " 

"Ginger," promptly interposed Ladybird, 
sidling over to the food-cup and carefully select- 
ing a generous piece of that article, which, seem- 
ingly, constituted her favorite diet. 

"Yes, you jade, that's it exactly," acquiesced 
the Duchess, eyeing the bird admiringly, "for, 
without it, that trip on the sea of matrimony 
either becomes deadly calm, which produces 
ennui, or so tempestuous that it causes mal de 
mer, and when the marital ship tosses amid the 
roaring waves of discord, angrily dashes against 



Tamar Curze. 73 



the dangerous rocks of strife, remember, that it 
is the pilot of strategy alone who can bring it 
safely to shore." 

"Amen," piously uttered Ladybird. 



74 Tamar Curze. 



XI. 



I was surprised one very warm afternoon to 
see Mrs. Dunlap peering through the half -closed 
library door. Upon catching sight of me she 
motioned my presence, at the same time placing 
a finger on her lips enjoining silence. 

Approaching, I followed the housekeeper's 
glance, and to my surprise beheld Miss Curze 
lying flat, face downward, upon a great animal- 
skin in front of the hearth. 

"Watch!* whispered Mrs. Dunlap. 

At which my eyes returned and saw the girl 
take something from her bosom, then press it to 
her lips again and again, while from her mouth 
there issued low, sensual sounds. Clutching it 
tightly to her breast, she rolled, laid partly on 
her side for an instant, then suddenly springing 
lightly to her feet, walked with long, gliding 
steps from the room, upon which Mrs. Dunlap 



Tamar Curze. 75 



immediately entered and, bending over the rug, 
picked up a glove, which still retained the im- 
print of the wearer's long, slender fingers, and 
holding it toward me, asked : 

"Do you know who's it is V* 

I shook my head. 

"Sir Lionel's," she whispered, then, at my 
blank look of inquiry, continued: 

"Mark my words. Miss Longnus, there will 
be sad trouble at Glandour before long." 

"What do you mean?" I asked. It was a 
senseless question, for now, now for the first 
time, I knew the import of the Duchess' hints, 
but still, even yet, with that maelstrom whirling 
about me, I repudiated the idea, and clasping 
Mrs. Dunlap's hands, repeated the question: 

"Dunlap, Dunlap ! What do you mean ?" 

"Just what I said," dryly answered Mrs. 
Dunlap, while her face darkened and the soft 
lines about her kindly mouth grew hard. "Don't 
you see the end of this ? And will you help keep 
our poor young mistress in ignorance as long as 
possible ?'* 



76 Tamar Curze. 



"Indeed, yes, but " 

"Hush! not so loud. You are young. Miss 
Longnus, but I'm an old woman, and have 
seen a deal of the world's wicked ways. This 
girl is up to mischief ; I knew it from the first. 
She is charming Sir Lionel away from his wife 
and " 

"But surely, Dunlap, she cannot be so vile as 
that," I protested, still battling with those re- 
pugnant thoughts, "surely you must be mis- 
taken." 

"Mistaken? No, Miss, not I, and for why, 
pray, may I ask, was she kissing the master's 
glove and purring like a cat, the hussy, unless, 
indeed, she is one, as I sometimes half believe, 
when I see her lying about, never sitting in a 
chair like any ordinary mortal woman ; flopping 
around on couches or coiled, crouching on rugs 
and cushions, the lazy, good-for-nothing." 

"She is peculiar," I answered, "and subject 
to moods, and " 

"Moods!" scornfully interrupting me. "I'd 



Tamar Curze. 77 

[ike to beat some of the moods out of her with 
my slipper." 

In the course of a few days I saw that Mrs. 
Dunlap's prophecy was undoubtedly coming 
true, for Sir Lionel was plainly neglecting his 
wife, and, if I had hitherto any latent doubts 
on the subject, they were rudely dispelled in this 
wise. 

Hastening one early evening to gather, as a 
loving surprise, some late violets for Lady Dora, 
who was extremely fond of these dainty blos- 
soms, my eager quest drawing me toward the 
arbor, when, upon hearing voices, I hesitated, 
then, naturally concluding it was some of the 
servants, was proceeding nearer, paused in sur- 
prised consternation, when Sir Lionel, speaking 
from within, in quick, unnatural tones, was 
saying : 

"Yes, I'm mad, raving mad, for I burn with 
unholy love for you, Tamar. You have driven 
me to perdition ; dreaming or waking, your yel- 
low eyes fill me with love, hope and terror. 

"Your breasts are twin magnolia buds, whose 



V8 Tamar Ciirze. 



fragrance maddens me. Your hair is a golden 
cobweb, in which my heart and reason are 
caught, tossed between love and duty back and 
forth like a shuttle in the loom." 

[Remaining mute, I listened to her voice, soft, 
low, purring, but failed to catch a single word 
she uttered, and then could scarcely refrain, as 
I heard his lips pressing hers in smothered itera- 
tion, from rushing in, confronting, upbraiding 
them for their shameful perfidy, when the more 
sober, sensible thought came, of what avail 
would be my, the governess', interference ? I 
should most probably be summarily dismissed, 
and they could still have their own guilty way. 

The next morning, as if aware of my knowl- 
edge. Miss Curze's hateful yellow eyes seemed 
to smile, glare into mine with a glow of fierce, 
triumphant mockery, but, glancing at Lady 
Dora, and mastering my resentment, deep with- 
in my heart, I solemnly registered a vow to keep 
this disgraceful secret from her, even if by do- 
ing so it required my life. 



Tamar Curze. ^9 



XII. 

One night I was painfully aroused from sleep 
by an agonizing toothache. Burying my throb- 
bing face deep amid the pillows. I thus hoped 
to allay the grinding pain, but it was useless. 
I turned, twisted in misery till neither temper 
nor endurance could stand it any longer, for 
surely, of all human ills, the toothache is the 
most exasperating, and remembering hearing 
Mrs. Dunlap speak of a positive cure which she 
possessed, I hastily jumped from the couch, 
hurriedly thrust my feet into a pair of slippers, 
donned a dressing-gown, wrapped a warm 
woolen shawl, the latest gift from Lady Dora, 
tightly around my head, seized a chamber can- 
dle and, with some trepidation, for the night 
was far advanced, quakingly descended the 
stairs, childishly dreading to pass through the 
library, which would be by this time in almost 



80 Tamar Curze. 



total darkness, and filled with strange, ghostly 
shadows of the fearsome armed knights sta- 
tioned at intervals along its walls. 

Upon reaching there, however, I was agree- 
ably surprised to see through the heavy oaken 
door, standing slightly ajar, a faint glimmer of 
light, at which my fears vanished, remembering 
Sir Lionel's study was directly off this room, 
and instantly concluded that he had remained 
up to read or perhaps to look over his steward's 
accounts. 

Naturally, I would have, at any other time, 
fearing to intrude, retired, but my troublesome 
tooth kept me in constant torture, so, without 
further hesitation, I tapped, then, gaining no 
response, boldly entered, fully expecting to find 
the study door open, but no, the door was closed, 
and the light reflected was from a small taper 
burning dimly upon the long, wide table in the 
center of the room ; at sight of which I was in- 
stantly assailed with the fear of burglars, who 
had been operating in the county for several 
weeks past, and, in terror, fully expected to feel 



Tamar Curze. 81 



a gag in my mouth, or, worse still, a pistol 
pointed to my heart or forehead. 

Thus, quaking with terror, I stood, my limbs 
shaking, bending beneath me, while a heinous 
horror took possession of all my senses, and 
visions of knives, masks, daggers were realisti- 
cally portrayed upon the distorted camera of 
my fancy. After an instant's immovability, 
however, I glanced shudderingly around, my 
attention caught by some white object lying a 
few feet from the heavy velvet curtain which 
separated the library and drawing-room. 

Rendered almost desperate with fright, I cau- 
tiously advanced a step, paused, and, mastering 
courage, by the exertion of almost superhuman 
will power, ventured another step, then started 
suddenly forward, for Oh! merciful heaven, it 
was Lady Dora, in her night-robe, stretched un- 
conscious upon the floor. 

Fright snatched the breath from my lips, but 
reason replaced it. What had happened ? What 
should I do ? Like a flash my instinct warned 
me to act with dexterous coolness and make no 



82 Tamar Curze. 



outcry. I knelt by her side, chaflSng the chill 
temples and icy hands, then remembering that 
in the next room was a decanter of wine, spring- 
ing to my feet, I rushed to fetch it, but, in- 
stantly dropping the curtain, recoiled in in- 
expressible shame. 

This, then, explained Lady Dora's condition, 
to whom I returned and, with energy born of de- 
spairing indignation, lifted her lifeless form 
tenderly upon the couch, then flew madly for 
Mrs. Dunlap, explaining to her in as few words 
as possible what had occurred, and, between us, 
we noiselessly carried the still unconscious 
woman to her boudoir. 

"Is she dead?" I cried. 

"ITo, poor pretty, she's fainted," answered 
Mrs. Dunlap. "Quick, Miss, a little sal vola- 
til. IsTow hand me that glass of water," forc- 
ing a drop or two between the tightly clenched 
teeth. "Ah!" as the lashes fluttered, "now the 
good Lord be praised, she's coming round." 

"Oh! Mrs. Dunlap," I gasped, as a sigh and 
some incoherent words bubbled from the partly 



Tamar Curze. 83 



open lips, "if we could only contrive some mira- 
cle to let her think it was but a dream." 

"Ah!' answered the old woman sadly, while 
hathing the white forehead with motherly 
gentleness, "it is impossible, such dreams as 
these no human power can heal nor conceal." 

Another sigh followed, deep and long, then 
Lady Dora's eyes opened wide with a look of 
affrighted bewilderment, then unutterable woe 
shone from the blueness of their depths. 

What could we do to comfort her ? All words 
seemed so cold, so useless. Happily, with light- 
ning rapidity, some impulse prompting me, I 
rushed to the nursery adjoining and, lifting lit- 
tle Cyril from his slumber, laid him, all rosy 
from sleep, into his mother's arms, who burst 
into a torrent of tears, which shook her delicate 
frame cruelly, at which Mrs. Dunlap made a 
motion to remove him. 

"Ko, no," she cried, drawing the curly head 
closer, "let him remain. I want to feel his inno- 
cent baby arms about my neck, his soft little 
body against my aching heart." 



84 Tamar Curze. 



Then, as I bent to kiss her before going, she 
whispered : 

"Pray for me, Olive." 

Pray for you, ah! indeed, I never before 
prayed so earnestly as I did that night for you, 
my darling. 



Tamar Curze. 85 



XIIL 

The succeeding days rolled slowly into weeks. 
Sir Lionel, exulting in his passion, devoting 
himself assiduously to the shameless Circe, who 
had so completely enslaved him, was callously, 
completely unconscious of the change in his 
wife's manner, her scarcely concealed aversion, 
the sharp recoil from his indifferent caress. 

After the first shock, however, during which 
I knew Lady Dora lived in a purgatorial fire, 
whose throes of suffering she bore unflinchingly, 
and from whence she later emerged, seemingly 
lulled into a lethargic stupor, then again pass- 
ing from that state, apparently resigning her- 
self, with a chill, emotionless calm, to the in- 
evitable, facing situation and fact quietly, 
which caused me to wonder where this frail 
creature got the endurance to combat so huge a 



86 Tamar Curze. 



trial, and also the power to bear its burden so 
bravely, treating Miss Curze with her usual 
gentle courtesy, and giving no sign, save by the 
extreme pallor of her face, the dark despair 
within her eyes, so pathetic in their futile love 
and shattered idyll. 

One morning, happening to meet Tamar 
Curze in the corridor, I bitterly beseeched her 
to cease from further dalliance with Sir Lionel, 
to which she haughtily replied : 

"Pray, express yourself more clearly, my 
good woman, I cannot grasp your meaning." 

"You know my meaning well enough," I cried 
angrily. "Why feign innocence ? Since it is no 
secret, every servant at the Court knows that 
you and Sir Lionel are breaking Lady Dora's 
heart between you." 

And then, forgetting my pride, anger, all, 
everything, I knelt to this woman, pleading with 
her in the faintest hope that surely some latent 
womanly feeling might turn her heart in pity 
toward Lady Glandour, imploring this creature, 



Tamar Curze. 87 



more than half devil, to go, leave her Ladyship 
in peace, and who, after listening in stony si- 
lence, cried: 

"What do I care for you or your musty, worn- 
out platitudes of moral philosophy. Will its 
inane teachings quench a volcanic passion such 
as mine ? You imbecile." 

Verily, civilization, like beauty, must assur- 
edly be only skin deep, for at these insulting 
words a frenzy, for the nonce, transformed me 
into a veritable demon, a taint inherited most 
likely from some remote swashbuckler ancestor, 
for the blood surged, beat furiously in my head, 
thumped loudly against my temples, while I 
had an unrestrainable, mad, fiendish impulse to 
clutch that slender white throat so temptingly 
bare, and seize, shake, throttle her. 

She evidently read my thoughts, for she 
sneered : 

"Yes, Miss Prudery, as old Shrewsburg calls 
you, yes, but you aren't equal to it." 

Then, bending tantalizingly toward me, she 



Tamar Curze. 



suddenly tweaked my nose most painfully, then 
with one single bound reached the door and 
mockingly threw these words over her shoulder : 

"I love him, do you hear? You ugly bunch 
of primness ; yes, love him, and all your preach- 
ing shan't alter nor palliate it. So go, go, tell 
that to your white-faced mistress, who poses as 
a martyr." 

Frantic with rage, I rushed forward, but with 
far greater fleetness than a deer she was gone, 
while her laugh still lingered echoing down the 
hall. 



Tamar Curze. 89 



XIV. 

"Look here, Dora," said the Duchess, march- 
ing into her niece's boudoir one afternoon. Lady- 
bird waddling at her heels, "I want to give you 
a bit of advice; you can take it or leave it, just 
as you see fit" 

"Yes, aunt," indifferently answered her 
Ladyship, without glancing up from her sew- 
ing, "what is it?" 

"Well, I have seen for several days past that 
you are fretting over something easily guessed at, 
though you have not confided in me, and now," 
speaking with tart brusquerie, "since your ver- 
nal heyday with all its silly glamour has passed, 
as I said it would, and you have at last caught 
a glimpse of your idol's ugly clay toes and 
awakened to the stern realities, what are you 
going to do ?" 

"Do ?" dully repeated Lady; Dora. 



90 Tamar Curze. 



"Aye, jou can't stay here, reaping the after- 
math of Delusion; moping won't help matters, 
besides being altogether too unpleasant. And, 
after all, what could you expect? since you 
would limit yourself to one color and — violets ?" 

Lady Dora, sitting with drooping shoulders 
and face dense white with a strange crepy ap- 
pearance, now lifted her haggard eyes, filled 
with such impotent apathy, which sight, doubt- 
less, touched the Duchess' heart, for the raillery 
left her voice, a new softness crept into her eyes, 
a tenderness to her lips, as she continued : 

"Dora, I want you to come away with me and 
your beloved Miss Prudery here." 

"Oh! Yes, yes," cried I, grateful to be in- 
cluded. 

My ready acquiescence pleased the Duchess, 
for she smilingly turned to me, saying: 

"That's right. Miss Longnus; thank you. 
Champion my cause by helping me persuade her 
Ladyship. We will go to some nice, quiet place, 
anywhere she may choose, and by waiting it will 



Tamar Curze. 91 



only be a brief time until things right them- 
selves." 

"Why should I go ?" asked Lady Dora. "And 
wait for what ?" 

**Your husband, child ; who else ?" 

"Oh, indeed," caustically; "throw out those 
violets, Olive, nodding toward a glass bowl, 
"they sicken me." 

I took the flowers, which filled the chamber 
with their illusive fragrance, and at Lady Dora's 
request placed them outside the window-sill. 

"Coming to your senses at last, eh ?" smiled 
the Duchess. "I see also," eyeing Lady Dora's 
rose-hued gown approvingly, "you've changed 
your color." 

"Yes," answered Lady Dora, listlessly, fold- 
ing a tiny garment, then, stretching her slender 
arms above her head, "yes, I've been a fool, but 
my education by a worldly instructor is begin- 
ning to bear fruit." 

"Alluding to me ?" asked the Duchess, 

"Host certainly." 



92 Tamar Curze. 



"My instructions, you cannot deny, will bring 
your husband back and " 

"You are well-meaning, but illogical, aunt, 
for," coldly, "did you not declare but a few 
weeks ago that love, once lost, was irrevocable ?" 

"1^0 matter what I said," lapsing into her old 
mood, "there's always exceptions, different 
causes and temperaments, besides, love and 
fancy are two vastly separate things." 

"No, aunt, if " 

"They are ; don't you dare contradict me, for 
I know what I'm talking about, and that deep 
down in your husband's heart, deep as the sea 
itself, is his love for you, and " 

Lady Dora raised her hand protestingly, 
while over her face a swift blush, radiantly 
beautiful, swept, but the Duchess unheedingly 
continued : 

"Yes, a love no other woman can ever reach, 
much less hold, and which you, by making the 
slightest effort, can easily regain." 

"I," scornfully uttered Lady Dora, twisting 
a strand of her pretty hair around her fore- 



Tamar Curze. 93 



finger, "have not the faintest desire to regain 
anything so worthless." 

"Pooh! You haven't, eh? Don't tell fibs, 
my Lady; of course you have, but by sitting 
here isn't the Tvay to do it." 

"Now, aunt, do, pray, hush. I find no fault 
with my lot, without which," sarcastically, "life 
would have no story, and so, have accepted the 
fact philosophically, precisely as it stands, 
since," bitterly, "the pendulum of Fate has 
swung it my way ; after all, it is but the natural 
tragedy of womankind." 

"Bah ! tragedy of womankind ! It is nothing 
but your abominable pride. I have no patience 
with you nor your stupid philosophy." 

"And yet," coolly, "it is your own teach- 
ings." 

"My teachings, forsooth! I'd like to beat 
you, and repeat that Lionel's love is deep, last- 
ing and will return. It is merely that baser 
part of his nature, which has gone a-Maying, at- 
tracted, caught temporarily by the false lure of 



94 Tamar Curze. 



Lady Dora laughed, a low, broken laugh, say- 
ing: 

"And, then, it is a foregone conclusion, you 
expect me to welcome back with open arms the 
repentant truant who has put this deadly insult 
upon me?" 

"Yes, why not ? when the time arrives forget 
antagonism, cast aside aversion, open your arms 
wide to him, give him comfort, love, it is a true 
wife's duty to forgive." 

"Aunt, you are the most inconsistent of 
women, prating to me of comfort, love, forgive- 
ness ; I have none, no, not even anger, only con- 
tempt, pity for a man who could fall so low." 

"Well said," answered the Duchess, "pity is 
akin to love, so come away with me." 

"No," retorted her Ladyship, "your inten- 
tions, I know, are for the best, and thank you, 
but my place is here, and here I will remain." 

"Oh! well, suit yourself, child; at a time 
like this, I presume, every woman must be her 
own mentor. Stay with your philosophy, it is 
a nice, respectable, motherly, old doctrine, if in 



Tamar Curze, 95 



this case a trifle erroneous, and, like religion, is 
at least sustaining, and during youth will serve 
their purpose, but wait, wait till old age, that 
hideous, grim hag, who, squatting, blocks our 
life's length pathway, toward whom we shrink- 
ingly approach, and beneath, around whose ugly 
arms, limbs we shyly seek in vain to wiggle, 
creep unnoticed, cunningly give her the slip un- 
challenged, but, alas ! she has us instantly on the 
hip, and callously, regardless of our tears, pro- 
testations, sternly demands her toll. Aye! even 
to the least iota. 

"Then, my dear, is when you will long for 
the consolation of your husband's love. But," 
pausing and regarding her niece narrowly, "in 
the meantime you must choose a lover." 

"A lover," repeated Lady Dora, staring un- 
comprehendingly, "what do you mean ?" 

"Just what I said," bluntly, "a lover ; merely 
tit for tat. Young Mayfair still adores you 
and " 

"Stop," commanded Lady Dora, who had 
risen, her face blanched to the hue of marble, 



96 Tamar Curze. 



her eyes cold, chill hauteur in every pose of her 
slender body, held so proudly erect. At this in- 
stant the young mistress of Glandour Court was 
a very great lady indeed, as she repeated : 

"Stop; how dare you hint such a shameful 
thing. Because my husband has forfeited his 
honor that does not give me the latitude to do 
likewise." 

The scorn in her voice made the Duchess 
wince, who, coming hastily forward, said: 

"You silly girl, I didn't mean it in that sense. 
Listen, dearest," taking both Lady Dora's hands 
in her's; "as I said before, matrimony needs a 
pilot. In this instance, that pilot must be a 
pseudonym lover. Love will return tenfold if 
incited by jealousy. Make him jealous." 

"Why should I make him jealous?" queried 
Lady Dora, "surely one evil cannot right an- 
other." 

"Sometimes it does, precisely as one poison 
counteracts the other. You cannot keep this up, 
Dora. It is not in reason for you to live lonely. 



Tamar Curze. 97 



desolate. Your heart demands love, your na- 
ture craves it." 

":N'o, no!" 

"Yes, it does! You, who in every instance 
are so suited to enjoy, satisfy love's demands. 
It is pure folly to waste the sweetness of your 
beauty and youth in this manner." 

"Youth ? ISTo, aunt, I'm no longer young, but 
old," releasing her fingers from the other's 
clasp and brushing them wearily across her fore- 
head. "Oh, so old!" 

"But," persisted the Duchess, "loves reju- 
venates." 

"Love! nonsense, what folly!" impatiently. 
"Aunt, stop this useless discussion, or yon will 
drive me mad." 

"Oh, Dora!" sighed her Grace, "this is not 
the morbid mood to be in when God is so soon 
to send one of his greatest blessings upon you." 

At this her Ladyship's lips quivered, but she 
still shook her head in positive negation. 

"Beloved, listen to me," said the Duchess, 



98 Tamar Curze. 



putting both arms about her neck, "my poor 
little girl, I " 

"Oh! aunt, I loved him so, I loved him so," 
cried Lady Dora, her head upon the Duchess' 
breast. "What am I to do ?" 

"Let me arrange matters," soothingly, coer- 
sive, "come away." 

To which Lady Dora, crushed beneath her 
first great sorrow, only answered : 

"No." 



Tamar Curze. 99 



XV. 

One morning Simpson, the head gardener, re- 
ported that he had found a fawn dead and terri- 
bly mangled, but by what he knew not. 

"It looks like a wolf's work, Sir Lionel, but 
blest if I know how a wolf or any other animal 
could get into the park ; the gates and entrances 
are always securely fastened." 

His master gave the man strict orders to thor- 
oughly examine, repair all fences wherever 
necessary surrounding the grounds, enjoining 
him to take double precautions in the future, for 
these mild-eyed little creatures were in truth 
Sir Lionel's especial pride. 

"Examine every nook and corner well, Simp- 
son," he said decidedly, "it must not happen 
again." 

This incident had almost passed from mem- 
ory, when Simpson reported the same storj, anr 



100 Tamar Curze. 



other fawn had been discovered dead, killed in 
exactly the same manner. 

Upon hearing this, Sir Lionel's anger was 
terrible; he ordered every dog upon the place 
shot, all save one, for, acceding to his young 
son's tearful importunities. Trust was the only 
dog spared. 

I was startled and a deal annoyed one night 
by Mollie rushing wildly into my room, seem- 
ingly on the verge of an epileptic fit or some- 
thing equally serious as she gasped : 

"Oh ! Miss Longnose, I've seen it !" 

"Seen what ?" I severely demanded. 

"It, and please. Miss, I'm going to die or 
faint or something," straightway plumping her 
stout person into my light willow rocker, 
smashing it completely. 

"In the name of common-sense, Mollie," I 
asked, "what are you talking about ?" 

*'It," repeated she, still shaking with fright. 

By this time I was becoming terribly alarmed. 
The hour was long past midnight, and Mollie, I 
knew, was in the habit of indulging a trifle in 



Tamar Curze. 101 



alcoholic spirits behind good Mrs. Dunlap's 
back, therefore I hastily concluded she was 
threatened with delirium tremens. Her eyes, 
almost starting from their sockets, rolled horri- 
bly, and her face was livid, as she stuttered: 

"Oh, Miss Longnose, darlent, I mean the 
thing that has been after eating all the deer in 
the park. Yes, Miss, a horrible, yellow thing, 
all covered with big, round, black spots, but," 
leaning toward me confidently, "the worst of all. 
Miss, ugh! it frightens me to think of it, 
it's " 

She stopped, covering her face with both 
hands and trembled so violently that every arti- 
cle in the room shook and rattled. 

"For God's sake, Mollie," I cried in terror, 
"what was it like ?" 

"Like?" through her chattering teeth, "it 
was — " glancing fearfully about and over my 
shoulder, "Oh, Holy Father!" uttering a shrill 
scream she dropped like a log from the chair to 
the floor. 

Springing to my feet, I beheld Miss Curze, 



102 Tamar Curze. 



who, evidently, in passing, had stopped out of 
curiosity to hear the cook's story. 

"Miss Longnus," said she authoritatively, 
"v7hy don't you order this vs^oman off to bed, in- 
stead of sitting here listening to her silly twad- 
dle? Can't you see she's intoxicated?" 

"No," I faltered, "she is certainly not that, 
though I was clearly under the same impression 
at first, but now am quite positive that she is so- 
ber, and there may be some truth, strange as it 
seems, in what she says." 

"Nonsense ! she is drunk I tell you ; just hear 
her snore." 

For sure enough, Mollie lay snoring, fast 
asleep, where she had fallen, and as Miss Curze 
passed on, I hastened in quest of a couple of 
footmen to carry the cook to her own quarters. 



Tamar Curze. 103 



XVI. 

The next morning all the servants went 
around with white, scared faces, speaking in 
furtive whispers, and one by one they each gave 
notice to leave. This mystery puzzled me not a 
little, as none of them offered Mrs. Dunlap any 
excuse or reason, and they were mostly long, 
well-tried servants. 

It clapped the climax when Raymond, the 
butler, tendered his resignation, at which the 
master of Glandour said: 

"Raymond, as a right, I demand the cause. 
The others I don't care a farthing about, they 
may all go. It doesn't signify. But you who 
have, and your parents before you, served the 
Glandours loyally and true, why are you leav- 
ing me? Have I not always treated you as a 
friend, not a servant? Come, you must ex- 
plain." 



104 Tamar Curze. 



"Sir Lionel," replied he, "as you say, I and 
mine have served you faithfully nigh unto four 
generations, but things are not as they should 
be here at Glandour. something is wrong, radi- 
cally wrong." 

"What damned foolery are you talking?" re- 
torted Sir Lionel sternly, his brow flushing a 
deep, angry crimson, "have a care, you may go 
too far." 

"I mean no disrespect, nothing against you. 
Sir," replied the dignified old man, the tears 
dimming his eyes at his master's rebuff, "but 
the fawn in the park, Sir." 

"Why, man," in evident relief, "what under 
the sun has that to do with it?" 

"A great deal, Sir ; we consider our lives in 
danger." 

"Are you an idiot, Raymond ? Haven't I had 
the dogs shot, that did the mischief? What 
else can I do? There have been no more ani- 
mals molested since then." 

"You are mistaken. Sir," answered Ray- 
mond; "there was another killed last n.ight." 



Tamar Curze. 105 



"What?" roared Sir Lionel. 

"Yes, Sir," repeated Kaymond ; "a doe." 

At these words like a flash I remembered 
Mbllie's story. 

"This is infernal, devilish," said Sir Lionel, 
sinking into a chair. "Why was I not informed 
sooner ?" 

"Mollie, the cook, Sir," said Raymond, mov- 
ing a step nearer and speaking in an awe-struck 
whisper, "Mollie, Sir, declares that last night 
she saw the thing that did it." 

"Is it possible?" Sir Lionel looked troubled, 
then quietly said, "Send the woman to me this 
instant." 

And Raymond, obeying, walked as fast as his 
stiff old legs would permit, to return with the 
cook, up to her elbows in flour, who, after bob- 
bing a courtesy, stood in simpering confusion. 

"What was it you saw in the park last night, 
Mollie, my girl V asked Sir Lionel kindly. 

"La, Sir, I don't like to think of it, for it 
frightened me so I'm almost dead. You see, 
Sir, I'd been out spending the evening with 



106 Tamar Curze. 



Jane Mallony, a cousin of mine, Sir. She was 
just aftlier having her baby christened that same 
day, and being as she named it afther me, Sir," 
with another dip, "Mary Ann, Sir, which was 
my mother's name before me, Sir," with a still 
deeper dip, "I thought it no more than right. 
Sir, that I should take it a present, which was 
a bonnet. Sir, and " 

"Yes! Yes!" impatiently, "never mind that 
part, just tell us what you saw." 

"I'm coming to it. Sir," reproachfully, "fast 
as ever I can ; well, I'd come through the south 
gate, the small one, near the arbor, where the 
shrubbery grows so thick, you know. Sir ?" 

Sir Lionel nodded resignedly. 

"Well, as I came through that gate — Thomas, 
the gardener. Sir, had given me the key, as," 
apologetically, "I didn't know just how late I'd 
be in gettin' in. Well, I was that timid. Sir, 
crossin' those bushes, but when I got clear of 
them, I was all right again, so " 

"Did you drink anything?" abruptly asked 
Sir Lionel. 



Tamar Ciirze. 107 



"Well," rolling one corner of her apron into a 
tight, round ball, "well, yes, we did have a glass 
or two of hot toddy, jest to kape the warmth in, 
for it was a bitther cold night, as, perhaps, you 
know. Sir. 'Now where was I?" losing the 
thread of her story, and lookingly appealingly 
about. 

"Where you had passed the trees," I eagerly 
interposed. 

"Ah, yes; when I passed the trees, I was 
walking along quietly. It was very moonlight, 
when straight in front of me I saw two animals 
standing close together, and," Mollie began to 
tremble, "I thought nothing of that at first," 
here she shook so that I arose and pushed her 
into my chair, and she continued : 

"But as I came a little nearer, I saw one 
was trying to get away from the other and cry- 
ing almost like a child. I knew it was one of 
the deers, Sir, and in an instant remembered 
about the others being killed. I got behind one 
of the oaks, for I could hardly stand from 
fright. The poor little crayture moaned so piti- 



108 Tamar Curze. 



ful like, while the other thing growled and 
snapped like an angry dog. 

"After awhile I peeped around the tree and 
saw the deer drop to the ground, and at the same 
time the animal fell, too, with its teeth fastened 
in the deer's throat. Then, Sir, it jumped up 
quick like and stood switching its tail, looking 
from side to side; it was a great, large, yellow 
cat, spotted all over with black. And as sure 
as I live. Sir, belave me or not, just as you 
choose, as I looked my heart jumped and hit my 
nose, Sir, for " 

"Well," impatiently interrupted Sir Lionel, 
"what next?" 

"Nothing, Sir," stammered Mollie, "only 



Then, uttering a shrill scream, she dashed 
against Sir Lionel, and almost upsetting me. fled 
through a rear door from the room. 

"What is it?" asked Miss Curze, who now 
entered, "what is all this hubbub and confusion 
about, Lionel?" 

At this instant a footman beckoned, telling me 



Tamar Curze. 109 



that Mrs. Dunlap requested my presence imme- 
diately, and hurriedly following the man heard, 
as I approached the servants' hall, loud noises 
of mirth and distress commingled. 

The scene when I entered was ludicrous in 
the extreme, for one of the maids, evidently ren- 
dered hysterical through MoUie's harrowing 
tale, was stretched upon a settee, while some of 
the others were rubbing, fanning, shaking her, 
while still another threw water in her face. 

But the funniest thing of all was Mollie, who 
probably weighed two hundred pounds or more, 
down upon her knees, convulsively clasping 
Mrs. Dunlap around the skirts, and in terror- 
stricken tones imploring : 

^'Good Mrs. Dumplap! Sweet Mrs. Dump- 
lap !" to save her. 

As I entered, Mollie, with a howl of fright, 
jumped to her feet, no doubt fully expecting to 
experience the novel and disagreeable sensation 
of being swallowed alive. 



110 Tamar Curze. 



XVII. 

'An hour later Simpson substantiated the 
cook's story. A fawn had been killed identi- 
cally as the others at exactly the spot described 
by Mollie. 

"And," said the man, who evidently put no 
credence in Mollie's yarn, "sorry as I am to say 
it, Trust must surely be the culprit." 

"Then," firmly answered Sir Lionel, "he 
must die." 

At this ultimatum, Cyril's grief was pitiful, 
but this time his father was obdurate. 

"Oh, Trust, Trust," sobbed the little fellow, 
with his arms clasped around the huge dog's 
shaggy neck, "they are going to kill you. I 
know you never did it, but they won't believe 
me, and you can't talk, poor Trust." 

The noble animal, undoubtedly aware of his 
impendinff fate, his great soulful eyes sad with 



Tamar Curze. Ill 



almost human intelligence, industriously licked 
the small tear-stained face lovingly ere he was 
led to his death. 

And to this day through misty eyes I can see 
the dear laddie with each chubby fist closely 
pressed to his ears to deaden the sound of the fa- 
tal bullet, which robbed him of a lifelong friend 
and comrade. 

"They are cruel, I hate them," Cyril cried, 
rushing to my arms. 

"Hush, darling," I replied, "surely you don't 
hate your papa, and you know that it is by his 
orders that this is done." 

"Yes, I do," he stormed; "I hate him worse 
than Simpson or any one else." 

"Oh! my pet, you don't know what you are 
saying," I answered, deeply grieved to hear him 
speak so bitterly, "your mamma would feel 
dreadful if she heard you say such naughty 
words; you cannot wish to hurt her." 

"1^0, no, poor mamma, she would cry; she 
cries so much now, nearly all the time. When- 
ever I wake up at night I hear her crying. Why 



112 Tamar Ciirze. 



does she cry, Miss Longnus ? Now," medita- 
tively, "if she had Trust and they killed him, 
she might have cause to cry, but " 

"Oh! dear heart," I answered, wiping the 
soiled little face, "she did have a Trust, and it 
was killed, cruelly, wickedly." 

"It can't be, Miss Longnus," shaking his 
curly head, "you are mistaken. Mamma never 
owned but one dog in her life, and that was 
when she was a tiny girl. It died and was 
buried in a beautiful grave. It's name was 
Nixie. She has often spoken to me about him. 
He was not a big dog like Trust, who," proudly, 
"you know, is a very large Newfoundland, but 
a teeny-weeny Prince Charles. 

"Since then she never cared for another dog; 
besides, why should she wait all this time to cry ? 
She never used to cry ; she doesn't play now nor 
tell me pretty stories. 

"Nurse says we are going to have a baby 
here soon," regarding me with bright, question- 
ing eyes. "I've seen several babies and don't 
care much for them, they are such queer things. 



Tamar Curze. 113 



MoUie's sister owns one. It has neither hair 
nor teeth and can't walk, but squirms a lot. Of 
course," philosophically, "if a baby does come, 
we will have to take care of it, I suppose; I 
don't know what they're good for, unless it's to 
punish wicked people; if that is true, I hope 
Papa and Simpson will be 'fflicted with one for 
their sins." 



114 Tamar Curze. 



XVIII. 

Little Cyril grieved long and deeply over the 
loss of his pet, until finally Sir Lionel, who 
probably suffered a twinge of remorse, procured 
him another dog, almost a counterpart of Trust, 
with strict instructions that it must be chained 
up at night, but the child never displayed the 
same affection for this one as for the former. 

Lady Dora now seldom left her apartments, 
a fact which they, too much occupied with their 
guilty love, failed to notice, till Sir Lionel, hap- 
pening to observe his wife's growing fragility, 
sent to London for Doctor Rossiter. 

I was always a firm believer in Instinct, natu- 
ral impulse. Instinct is a God-given gift, too 
slightly appreciated, loosely cultivated, and I 
am satisfied that more than half the crosses, trib- 
ulations of life, could be averted by simply 
heeding, following our guardian angel Instinct ; 



Tamar Curze. 115 



for, believe me, if permitted, it would control 
our actions, moods entirely. 

'AH animals, dogs in particular, possess this 
gift, Aye! and abide, profit by it; why should 
not we superior animals do the same? Avoid 
the person whom your Instinct warns you 
against. It is seldom, if ever, erroneous, for 
was it not due to its warnings I owed my an- 
tipathy to this woman, whose frightful beauty 
was leading Sir Lionel to destruction and send- 
ing Lady Dora to the grave ? 

"Oh, why," I repeatedly asked myself, 
"could not this mere girl, so little fitted for suf- 
fering, have been spared, or kept in ignorance, 
and a stoic like I been permited to suffer in her 
stead?" 

To my idea Lady Dora was always pretty, 
but now there was something spirituelle about 
her, which rendered her loveliness almost un- 
earthly. 

So, a piece of advice, then, shun the woman 
who speaks with a lisp or that other abomination, 
t^ie woman with moods. Kow, as I stated at 



116 Tamar Curze. 



first, I'm a plain, practical person, and never 
waste time littering my mind with useless rub- 
bish. What I stated regarding Instinct is ordi- 
nary facts, not alchemy. I have no patience 
:with one who dabbles in magic and is forever 
running after secret laws, forbidden knowledge. 

By this I intend no disrespect to Felix Kossi- 
ter nor Professor D'Herbelot, whose theories in 
almost every case run in parallel lines that way 
of course. Felix has, I believe, a somewhat dif- 
ferent view, more sensible ideas than the Pro- 
fessor, that is, he did have, till the latter, by a 
lot of queer, outlandish theories, which I, for 
one, don't put the slightest credence in, and in 
which any sensible person would have but little 
faith, preferring to leave all such poppycock to 
the archives, has lately, I regretfully confess, 
totally demoralized the Doctor's otherwise well- 
balanced mind. 

For instance, one of the Professor's pet be- 
liefs is that the departed spirits, the male enti- 
ties included, are forever, night and day, in our 



Tamar Cnrze. 117 



midst, ^ow, to contemplate such absurd, nay, 
immoral, ideas is, to say the least, most alarm- 
ing, for, according to them, a modest, virtuous 
woman would have no privacy whatever. 



118 Tamar Curze. 



XIX. 

Which was it, a dream or reality? Even 
now I know not, but, one or other, the shock, 
owing to the latent horror of it, still remains a 
wild, unearthly dread, a dread that haunts me 
with an awful, undefined distress, for even to 
this day I cannot recall that fearful night with- 
out a prickly sensation about the roots of my 
hair and shiver with a chill of unspeakable an- 
guish. 

If a dream, it certainly bore some cryptic im- 
port, heralding the projection of the calamities 
which shortly followed ; and if reality, the sinis- 
ter danger which then threatened me, few 
women have lived to tell it, but dream, reality 
or whatever it was, I will herewith explain in 
brief detail. 

My tooth, which had troubled me sometime 



Tamar Curze. 119 



previously mentioned, now through neglect had 
become ulcerated and, consequently, passing 
several sleepless nights, I was on the verge of 
collapse when, fortunately, Mrs. Dunlap, al- 
ways kindly, considerate, compassionately took 
me beneath her motherly wing. 

This first night she had spent several hours 
administering to me, relieving my swollen face 
with flaxseed and frequent applications of hot 
flannel cloths, until at last, surceased from suf- 
fering, I lay soothed, calm, luxuriously repose- 
ful under her maternal solicitude, contentedly 
watching the trim little woman bustling softly 
about the room. 

"Please go to bed, Mrs. Dunlap, dear," I said, 
noticing that she looked very tired from her 
long vigil ; "you must be worn out, do go." 

"I'm going now, dearie, just wait one mo- 
ment," and after poking the fire into a brighter 
blaze, extinguishing the alcohol lamp, she re- 
luctantly left me. 

As she crossed the threshold I drowsily no- 
ticed that the lieht touch she gave the door- 



120 Tamar Curze. 



knob failed to catch, but, being too sleepy, did 
not bother arising to fasten it. 

My dreamless sleep, though heavy, was not 
restful. It seemed, occasioned by utter exhaus- 
tion, more like a stupor. How long it lasted I 
don't know, when I suddenly awakened. 

Frozen with fear, I could see by the light 
cast from the coals in the grate, that the door, 
which Mrs. Dunlap had closed, neglecting to 
fasten, was now nearly wide open, and in the 
room felt some nameless, malevolent presence. 

Powerless to move, endeavoring to probe the 
gloom, my straining eyes were attracted where 
two bright sparks, blazing gray, green, amber 
steadily shone from the farthest corner of the 
chamber, till the intensity of their magnetic lus- 
ter fascinated, maddened me, and then, every 
drop of blood crept slowly to my heart, beating 
in dull, aching thuds, for there, against the 
wall, directly behind those twin brilliant rays, 
I still peering, seemed to discern the outline, 
the dark, ominous shadow of that which, by im- 



Tamar Curze. 121 



perceptible degrees was, yes, a sinuous, couch- 
ant form. 

Bathed in the clammy sweat of mortal terror, 
I lay, as if petrified, helpless, cold, the dull 
apathy of despair paralyzing my brain and 
pulse, knowing that to move the fraction of an 
inch was to hasten my doom, as I awaited, 
watched that huge, motionless, irresistible, 
bronze thing, crouching silently in the corner, 
whose spring would mean swift, agonizing 
death. 

Aye! It was coming. I noticed a slight 
movement, doubling about the loins and shut 
my eyes, striving to pray, when, suddenly, my 
tense, taut ears caught a faint but unmistakable 
sound, the dear, blessed sound of Mrs. Dunlap's 
slippered feet. Would she be in time to save 
me? or oh, merciful God! would she, too, 
be 

I remembered nothing more. Mrs. Dunlap 
said she found me in a swoon. 

If reality, I was nearer death than most 
women, and if a dream, it was wonderfully real- 



122 Tamar Curze. 



istic, for my hair, which hitherto had been jet 
black, without one single silver thread, to mark 
my twenty-six years of life, was on the morrow 
snow white. 

When in after years introspectively glancing 
back, a benumbing languor creeps over me, I 
single out this one night as the most vivid, and 
my heart grows sick, for Time's deft fingers 
have been unable to erase from my memory the 
acute malignant horror of it. 

All that remains to be told will be related by 
Doctor Rossiter, to whom I now resign my pen 
and bid you farewell. 



Tamar Curze. 123 



XX. 

Upon the first evening of my arrival I was 
dining at the Court, feeling it my duty and 
pleasure by responding to Sir Lionel's urgent 
request to visit Glandour immediately, when a 
footman flung open the door and a woman en- 
tered, whose, weird, unnatural beauty staggered 
me. 

Miss Longnus, I perceive, has given you a 
very fair description of the household's various 
members, but that of Tamar Curze, — ahem ! 

She advanced slowly. I never saw a woman 
walk so slow before, seemingly to pause an age 
at every swaying step. She was exquisitely tall, 
tall as an Eastern palmetto, and white, the ex- 
treme pallor of her face intensified by several 
brown moles. 

Her coppery hair, rumpled in picturesque 
disorder, was golden, no, bronze, now flaming 



124 Taraar Curze. 



chestnut, and her eyes, long, slanting, were not 
eyes at all, but stars, shot with irradiant darts, 
which, flashing through the half-closed lids, 
fringed with lashes of extraordinary length, 
emitted rays of green, blue and violet. 

Was I drunk ? No, my wine remained un- 
tasted. What necromancy then caused by the 
evanescent faint, indescribable perfume emanat- 
ing from her presence, overwhelmed me as 
a narcotic draught? What sorcery of a dream 
possessed, wafted me with the velocity of light- 
ning on the wings of Memory, to the Brahmap- 
tura valley across the great river of Darrang to 
plunge me into the cool, dark Assam jungle 
oozing with its heavy floriferous odors, sensual 
fragrance of the orchids, swaying sullenly or in 
undulating movements of languorous delight, 
and whose imperial stillness is broken by the 
shrill whistle of its inmates, low melodious 
gamut of noises, which smite, echo from the 
quivering branches above which sounds the an- 
gry chatter of monkeys, resenting encroachment 
upon the sanctity of their domain ; then silence 



Tamar Curze. 125 



save the lisp and rustle of leaves, everything 
was stilled into a silent symphony, while across 
those golden aisles, where the sun sifted, little 
furry creatures scurried. 

And then I swung my hand to my throat, for 
with excruciating torture all the blood of my 
body crowded, gorged my aching brain, aching 
with baffled memories around which, with per- 
sistent intensity, my thoughts ran in painful 
gyrations, in pursuit of something invisible, 
which mockingly eluded, slipped over the sheer 
declivity of my mind, down which in vain I 
shrinkingly peered to behold nothing but chaos 
till I heard Professor D'Herbelot's voice 
through booming distance saying: 

"Not for me, Felix ; I'm not a man of blood, 
and it is, to my idea, nothing short of murder 
to kill those inoffensive, pathetic little crea- 
tures." 

These words partly awakened me from my 
ether-like drowsiness, and through an eerie, yel- 
low-haze loomed the woman, half poised, half 
drooping, floating dreamily before me. 



126 Tamar Curze. 



No, I'm not drunk, but assuredly threatened 
with brain fever, or if not, what inexplicable 
physical force hurled me back a matter of 
twenty years or more? Yes, it was a hot ride 
down from London ; I am undoubtedly going to 
be ill. 

Endeavoring to bring my wits together, I 
strive to emerge from this comatose state, and, 
passing my hand quickly across my throbbing 
forehead, nervously wonder if the others have 
noticed my perturbation, and was relieved to see 
Lady Dora in leisurely consumption of her soup, 
while Miss Longnus, sitting prim to my left, had 
finished. 

Drawing nearer. Miss Curze's eyes, those 
wonderful eyes, with the peacock's prismatic 
tints, rested with all their splendor upon Sir 
Lionel, who, leaning forward, returned their 
gaze with equal intensity, while every nerve of 
my body thrilled with the unutterable charm of 
her presence. 

She wore a garment of yellow velvet, not 
fashioned after the prevailing mode, nor any 



Tamar Ciirze. 127 



other, for that matter, for it was twined, 
twisted, wrapped about her in a way that 
seemed to harmonize, form part of herself, 
and from which emerged, gleaming with satiny 
whiteness, her neck and long, slender arms bare 
to the shoulders. 

I cannot recollect now what I said in response 
to her nod and smile by which she acknowledged 
the introduction. All during the remainder of 
the meal my senses stayed strangely deadened. 

She was full of lazy gestures, and had a most 
captivating way of twisting her lithe, graceful 
body. Her conversation, however, as far as 
I heard, was nothing remarkable, indeed, con- 
sisting merely of brilliant flippancy, and, but 
perhaps I imagined it, she seemed bent upon 
tantalizing Miss Longnus with covert remarks 
about old maids, spinsters, etc., causing that 
lady, whose attitude towards her, I noticed, ap- 
peared unmistakably hostile, to answer sharply 
more than once, which, however, instead of 
nonplusing, seemed to please, nay, delight Miss 
Curze hugely. 



128 Tamar Curze. 



'Nor did I escape. I knew intuitively during 
the meal that I was under criticism, and at the 
end my vanity suffered a secret pang when I 
distinctly heard her remark sotto voce to Sir 
Lionel that I was "a sanctimonious cad." 



Tamar Curze. 129 



XXI. 

At the expij»ation of the third day at Glan- 
dour, seated in my chamber, with the smoke of 
a cigar curling above me to the ceiling, I've 
seen the time when, as a struggling young prac- 
titioner, I have had to go without wine at din- 
ner nor never missed my pousse cafe, in fact 
had cheerfully foregone numerous pleasures 
considered by some essential to the inner man, 
but there was one thing I could not dispense 
with, that was my cigar, and a good Havana at 
that, in whose seductive breath I forgot the 
world's vexatious cares. 

This particular evening, however, my weed 
failed in its magic work — my mind was trou- 
bled. It's deucedly unpleasant to be called "a 
sanctimonious cad," and retrospectively my 
thoughts wandered back to the good old college 
days. 



130 Tamar Curze. 



What a jolly set of chaps we were. There 
was Jack Vettelton, the instigator of every 
town and gown row, for which he was even- 
tually expelled, and now, strange as it may 
seem, he is a bishop, most orthodox of his call- 
ing. Luke Grimes, another fun-loving ring- 
leader, now occupies a judge's seat. I have 
heard, seen how criminals quail before the ma- 
jesty of his presence. Then, there was lazy, 
good-natured, stupid Dick Trevor, who, as a 
Parliamentarian, takes the first rank. Upon the 
table at my elbow is "The Times," bearing 
upon its printed columns a brilliant speech from 
the Honorable Richard Trevor, who for years 
has found no equal in the House of Commons. 

Then, too, I must not omit our favorite tutor, 
dear old Professor D'Herbelot, a true student of 
Anthropogency, now universally acknowledged, 
acclaimed the foremost scientist of the day, for 
having the keenest penetration coupled with re- 
markable audacity, he has made discoveries of 
the most astounding character, possessing an 
aggressive mind always in pursuit of, forever 



Tamar Curze. 131 



seeking, the unknown and seemingly able to 
pierce the vast, untouched Future and see the 
advent of things that are not yet. 

Absorbed in chemistry, anon plunging into, 
experimenting with alchemy, from which he 
analyzed, extracted numerous cabalistic myste- 
ries, holding the perception of his weird subject 
with the delicate, cool precision of the surgeon, 
when his scalpel cuts the living flesh. 

He did not escape calumny, for naturally, his 
superior will, intellect, which gained for him 
the distinguished position he held, also gained 
him some enemies. The medical and scientific 
world would sometimes, while admiring the 
originality and boldness of his views, pooh! 
pooh ! his theories, sneeringly call him a mystic, 
while others derided him as a madman. 

D'Herbelot disliked religious discussion, 
never allowing himself to be drawn into any 
controversy, causing some to openly accuse him 
of being an atheist. Ah, an atheist, perhaps so, 
but, nevertheless, a firm believer in charity, a 
devout worshipper of Nature, with whom he 



132 Tamar Curze. 



communed, and whose beauty, harmony seemed 
ever to surround, serve him, developing recti- 
tude of ideas, correct appreciation of that 
knowledge, never zig-zagging off into intangible 
channels. 

Grimly faithful to his ideas was D'Herbelot, 
the powers of his mind chained to useful actions, 
his motives pure, sincere. This large-souled 
man's ideas, correct or erroneous, were at least 
fortifying, nor was he a hypocrite, for his motto 
was "Truth." Dear old chap ! I had seen him 
but at brief intervals since that delightful vaca- 
tion we spent hunting in India. 

I sighed, for since that time a score of years 
had passed. Aye! What changes indeed since 
those happy, good old college days. But alas! 
here was Lionel Glandour and myself entirely 
out of the running, in fact ignominously left at 
the post. 

Yes, Lionel, the finished stroke of the Varsity 
crew, who as a student manifested such pro- 
digious activity, now, contrary to his youthful 
boastings, apparently contents himself to live 



Tamar Curze. 133 



the aimless, uneventful life of a mere country- 
squire. 

I confessed myself disappointed in Lionel, 
from whom all ambition seemed to have fled. 
He was still the same genial, gracious friend as 
of yore, but there was, I noticed lately, a differ- 
ence, a preoccupancy in his manner, which 
somewhat puzzled me. 

My thoughts now tramped off in other direc- 
tions, treading on each other's heels or separat- 
ing in grotesque shapes. 

Assuredly I was prodded by the elbow of 
egotism, constitutedly of a happy temperament, 
the spirit of morbidness possessed me now, for 
to be called "a sanctimonious cad!" well, per- 
haps she was right, for here I was, plodding 
along in a fair measure, but unable to achieve 
recognition, which I seemed this evening to de- 
sire more than ever. Fame's applauding hand 
was what I craved, but alas ! I was now a mid- 
dle-aged physician of but indifferent renown, 
the laurel wreath further from my brow than 
ever. 



134 Tamar Curze. 



These reminiscences were cut short by a 
knock at the door, and then in response to my 
absently spoken admittance an individual en- 
tered who, without any preliminaries, said: 

^'Hit's 'er Grace, the Duchess of Shrewsburg, 
as wants you, Sir. She's been took with one of 
'er bad spells hagain. Hit's the spirits, but," 
aggrievedly, "she would 'ave 'em, hand has 'er 
own Doctor Harmstrong is off in Scotland for 
a few days, she ordered me to fetch you. So, 
please come. Sir, 'er Grace doesn't like to be 
kept waiting," 

I had heard strange and fearsome things 
about this same Duchess, though whom during 
my former visits I'd never yet met. But with- 
out further explanation or waiting to make in- 
quiries, I hastily caught up my medicine-chest 
and straightway followed the impatient man. 

After walking rapidly through several dimly 
lit corridors and mounting a broad flight of 
shallow stairs, my guide finally paused in front 
of a massive oaken door, which at his light tap 
was softly opened by a female attendant. 



Tamar Curze. 135 



Stepping back a pace or two, I wondered if 
I was amongst a pair of Bedlamites, for the 
man and woman, their arms and shoulders, as 
if moved by springs, jerked spasmodically, 
seemed to be affected with St. Vitus' dance, 
while they dodged, sidestepped, ducked heads in 
a most remarkable manner. 

Then, from the furthest corner of the murky 
room, which reeked with the vile stench of 
patchouli, came a garrulous voice, saying: 

"Eh, Maxwell, have you got him ?" 

Under ordinary circumstances I'm not a cow- 
ard, but at this my heart commenced to beat a 
tattoo and I wanted to bolt. 

"Hit's 'er Grace, Sir," whispered the man, 
evidently noting my apprehensive intention, 
then hastily, "Yes, Your Grace, 'e's 'ere." 

"Then turn the wick a little higher. Mercy ! 
Stupid, not so high !" 

After Maxwell did as desired, reclining in an 
immense chair, her left foot swathed in ban- 
dage, resting on a pillow elevated to a perpen- 
dicular ^position, which brought it almost on a 



136 Tamar Curze. 



level with her head, was the very Grossest look- 
ing old woman imaginable. 

However, I advanced with a low bow, and 
looked my very wisest. 

"Umph," she surveyed me critically. 

"Have I the pleasure," I asked in my best 
professional tones, "of addressing the Duchess 
of Shrewsburg?" 

"Never mind about the pleasure," she 
snapped, shaking the most villainous looking 
stick I ever saw. 

At this instant, to make matters worse, and 
increasing my dismay, sputtering, scolding, an- 
other voice exactly similar to the Duchess' 
arose. 

"Hush, Ladybird, do," entreated Maxwell, 
"go to sleep and behave yourself," and to my 
great relief I discovered it was only a parrot, 
whose vocabulary seemingly consisted chiefly of 
cuss words. 

"Oh, oh!" howled the Duchess in sudden 
pain. 

"Oh, oh!" mimicked the bird, adroitly elud- 



Tamar Curze. 137 



ing, with the utmost sangfroid, the spoon the 
Duchess flung. 

"Oh, oh!" once more bawled the dame, madly 
beating the air with her stick. 

"Oh, oh, fiddlesticks," repeated the parrot, 
who now drowsily posed, blinking disapproval 
at the Duchess, who cried: 

''Eh ?" and then I gTinned in spite of myself, 
as leaning forward, with one vicious whack of 
her cane, saying, "Take that, you impudent 
hussy," she knocked the offender from off its 
perch to the floor, where, while rearranging its 
rumpled feathers, it swore angrily, giving vent 
to loud vituperation. 

"It's the gout. Sir," explained the woman 
apologetically, when at last she could make her- 
self heard above the din, "her poor Grace is a 
perfect martyr to it." 

I stood, feeling like a fool, and doubtless 
looking like one, for the Duchess yelled : 

"Yes, oh! damnation, how I suffer. Don't 
stand there all night gaping and staring like an 
idiot, but, quick, give me something to stop this 



138 Tamar Curze. 



infernal pain. Oh, oh, Maxwell, you imbecile, 
why didn't you bring me a doctor, not a don- 
key?" 

I turned on my heel. 

"Where are you going?" screamed the old 
hag, jumping up in her fury and dancing 
around on one foot, then, to my consternation, 
hopping after me, her stick aloft, "Oh, come 
back this instant, I command you !" 

"Oh, oh, I command you !" echoed the green 
imp, climbing again to her perch. 

"Madam," I replied with dignity, "you have 
no right to command me nor any authority to 
insult me that I'm aware of. I wish you good 
evening." 

"Catch him," cried she, unheeding my words ; 
"oh, oh. Maxwell, don't let him get away." 

"Don't mind 'er Grace," said Maxwell, con- 
ciliatory, laying a detaining but respectful hand 
upon my sleeve ; " 'er Grace don't really know 
what she says or does. Sir, when she gets them 
'orful' shootin' pains." 

Something in the man's and woman's implor- 



Tamar Curze. 139 



ing, troubled faces slightly mollified me, and 
banishing my resentment for their sakes, I soon 
ascertained that her Grace's ailment was sim- 
ply a severe case of suppressed gout, which, 
luckily, I thoroughly understood the treatment 
of. 

And from that evening, owing to the whim 
or gratitude of a capricious, crotchety old 
woman of rank, I suddenly discovered those 
long-delayed, coveted bay leaves resting on my 
brow, which made me the rage of London, for 
fickle fortune or fickle fashion rather smiled 
upon me, nay, not only smiled, but laughed, 
shaking me vigorously by the hand in right 
good will. 



140 Tamar Curze. 



XXII. 

Lady Dora seemed in a chronic state of mel- 
ancholia, which to a ceitain extent was to be 
expected, though, in truth, a healthy woman 
should during that time be at her best and hap- 
piest. 

Each recurring period, that delicate, tentative 
period of approaching maternity which the path 
of Love lightens, should act as a wholesome 
moral brace, satisfying to her conscience, 
strengthening, stimulating her character, and as 
wife and mother, invigorating, intensifying her 
dignity, binding her yet closer to her children 
and husband's heart with that inscrutable bond 
which is the only true secret of all happily mar- 
ried lives. 

So thus, what I at first laid to nature now 
puzzled me. Therefore, unable to diagnose the 
case, I sought Sir Lionel's permission to sum- 



Tamar Curze. 141 



mon, consult our old friend and tutor, which 
request was readily granted. 

It was late that same afternoon when, in due 
time, in answer to my telegram, he arrived. 

Professor D'Herbelot was a remarkably hand- 
some man of lofty stature, kingly bearing. In 
his magnificent dark eyes was a vastness, whose 
gaze seemed to embrace, comprehend everything 
at one swift glance, but perhaps the main charm 
of his countenance was its childlike frankness. 

There was no perceptible change in his ap- 
pearance since my Oxford days. He still re- 
tained the tremendous physique and vigorous 
constitution of youth. His words were terse, 
well chosen and to the point, and while wholly 
unaffected, there was an air of imperial hauteur 
about him compelling instant homage, and in his 
presence I invariably had a sensation of rever- 
ence. 

Possibly this great and wonderful man was 
spoiled, sated by excessive tributes from the 
fairer sex, for when presented to Miss Curze, 
iwhile regarding her curiously for a moment, he 



142 Tamar Curze. 



did not evince the slightest admiration, merely 
returning her gracious bow by the curtest of 
nods, while deliberately ignoring her out- 
stretched hand entirely, then rudely turned his 
back, directing all his conversation to Lady 
Dora. 

She, Miss Curze, was palpably piqued by this 
marked indifference to her charms, for I heard 
her remark aside to Sir Lionel that he was : 

"A crusty old brute." 

The Professor's previous demeanor was only 
feigned, however, for I saw, by furtively watch- 
ing, that he was even more strongly affected than 
myself at first sight of her. 

The muscles of his powerful face twitched 
painfully, as his eyes rested, wandered with a 
queer, eager expression over her head and 
shoulders to the flexible hand toying noncha- 
lantly with a small green caterpillar, fallen 
from the roses, then roving back again to look 
perplexedly at her face. 

This close scrutiny plainly irritated its sub- 
ject, for she raised her eyes interrogatively an 



Tamar Curze. 143 



instant to his, then still continued teasing the 
caterpillar, one moment allowing it to crawl 
nimbly away, then pouncing upon it with the tip 
of her forefinger, when the grub would in- 
stantly curl up into a tiny round ball. 

"Pardon, Madam, do you never eat meat?" 
asked Professor D'Herbelot. 

I, too, had noticed on previous occasions that 
she never ate meat. 

Again she lifted her haughty head, her eyes 
blazing like topazes through the half-closed lids 
as she briefly answered: 

"No." 

"Of no description ?" he persisted. 

Once more she lifted her head, and now I 
could plainly see the hidden anger in those 
lurid, saffron depths, as suffering the caterpillar 
to escape, she almost snarled: 

"N'o, — why do you doubt that I'm a vege- 
tarian ?" 

"Because your temperament and appearance 
belie it." 

Then, assuredly something in his insinuating 



144' Tamar Curze. 



glance immediately caused a swift change to flit 
across her scintillating orbs, while her left hand, 
slipping along the table-cover, rippled, crumpled 
it in a sudden clutch. 

D'PIerbelot noticed it, too, and a smile 
pinched the corners of his mouth, as he now 
bent far across the board, looking with a seem- 
ing challenge boldly into her face, in which ab- 
solute terror was now plainly deciphered, while 
the frail stem of the glass, around which her 
fingers twined, snapped suddenly in twain, spill- 
ing its contents in a crimson flood upon the ta- 
ble. 

But quickly recovering when noticing our 
puzzled faces, laughing lightly she held her 
broken glass to be refilled, answering his glance 
in like manner through half-shut eyes. Then 
her behavior swiftly changed from its former 
proud deportment to downright diablerie, as, 
lifting the goblet to her lips, she bowed him a 
smiling defiance, saying: 

"Yes, Sir, Professor, since you so rudely in- 



Tamar Curze. 145 



sist, at certain times, but only at certain times, 
do I eat meat." 

"Ah!" he nodded gravely, as at her motion 
he slowly drained his glass, "ah !" 

Their glasses were several times emptied, re- 
filled. Miss Curze, her eyes sparkling, her 
white teeth gleaming, was on the extreme verge 
of reckless hilarity. Altogether she was most 
diabolically beautiful, as lifting the wine to her 
lips, she drank with Professor D'Herbelot again 
and again. 

I was by this time growing somewhat appre- 
hensive, for at the present rate they would soon, 
undoubtedly, both be tipsy, when, luckily, Lady 
Dora gave the signal, and Miss Curze reluc- 
tantly arose, also Sir Lionel, who, pleading 
some excuse, followed the ladies from the room. 

"Well," said I, when left alone, "what do you 
think of her ?" 

"Umph," grumbled the Professor. 

"Her beauty, though of a peculiar order, is 
wonderful, is it not?" I queried. 

"Beauty? I saw no beauty in Miss Curze, 



14:6 Tamar Curze. 



for I presume it's she to whom you allude. Lady- 
Dora, to my mind, far surpasses her both in 
looks and manners." 

"Oh," I laughed, remembering the girl's be- 
ha\dor at dinner, "her manners are certainly 
nothing to brag about, but her beauty is indis- 
putable. That glorious blending of color would 
fill an artist's soul with ecstasy." 

"Indeed," dryly. "Your idea of beauty, my 
dear Rossiter, is, permit me to say, deplorably 
limited." 

"Professor, you are an icicle," I answered, 
"for I verily believe that neither Helen nor 
Venus herself could thaw you." 

"Tut," he answered sharply, "you are as 
badly infatuated with that infernal Circe as our 
unfortunate host himself." 

"Lionel?" I gasped, a light suddenly break- 
ing through the cloudy recesses of my brain and 
recoiling from the thought with a sense of sharp, 
physical agony. 

I sat stunned, endeavoring to repel the terri- 
fying truth, having not realized till now how 



Tamar Curze 147 



she had enchained me, how her beauty with the 
invincible force of a mandate compelled my 
whole being to quiver, pulse with desire for her 
whose image had aroused, unloosened, mad- 
dened my passions. 

And thus suddenly comprehending, a tumult 
of savage rage, wild jealousy arose inchoately 
against the man who possessed her, and when 
in the stress of it, remembering their now too 
obvious secret, I was about to utter an oath, 
when D'Herbelot's eyes met mine, with a look 
of vague, ineffable pity. Something in that 
glance brought me to my senses, stirred me to 
sudden composure, as he continued: 

"Aye! Sir Lionel Glandour, who, poor fool, 
cannot exist out of the vixen's sight." 

By this time I'd pulled myself sufficiently to- 
gether to say: 

"]Srotwithstanding her father was your friend, 
and. Professor, while I respect, esteem you be- 
yond all men, I cannot, while enjoying the hos- 
pitality of his roof, listen to defamatory re- 



148 Tamar Curze. 



marks against Sir Lionel, who is a prince of 
good fellows and " 

"Pooli ! a prince of good fellows, no douLt. 
Oh, the shame, the infamy of it. Rossiter, are 
you really so dense, so blind that you cannot see 
the cause, the damnable cause from which Lady 
Dora suffers, which is slowly, surely killing 
her? 

"Why, man, I wasn't in the place five min- 
utes before I saw what the trouble was. And 
then you ask me if I think that thing beautiful ! 
No!" snapping his fingers contemptuously; "no, 
in my eyes she is hideous, for I see her with- 
out the glamor of magnetism, wherein she has 
so powerfully enveloped herself that you, fool- 
ish boy, see her exactly as she wills, desires 
you," significantly, "and others should. 

"This woman, my friend, has the hypnotic 
gift to a marvelous degree, but she also pos- 
sesses another power, an infernal power, not 
human, more wonderful by far than mere hyp- 
notism, that it was only by strenuous self-con- 
trol that I resisted her." 



Tamar Curze. 149 



"A power, what power ?" I asked. 

"I let her know I was her peer in that game, 
though," triumphantly continued he, ignoring 
my question, "if not her master, and, having 
the advantage, will force some truths from her, 
too. I see her as she really is ; a large, sinewy, 
well-formed woman, with a white, hairy skin, 
plentifully sprinkled with big, unsightly brown 
moles, red, blood-loving lips, sharp, cruel, white 
teeth, the baleful yellow eyes of a 

"]^o, I'm not mad, Kossiter. You see, I read 
your thoughts like an open book, for I've studied 
the mystery of that art, too, which is simplicity 
itself, amongst many other so-called mystifica- 
tions, which abound to such an exent in Tibet 
and throughout the East, where queer things 
happen in Nature's Laboratory. 

"As I said before, Rossiter, this woman is a 
psychological problem, and has evil, powerful 
secrets; but what they are I can only surmise 
for " 

"Professor," I interrupted, my temper ris- 
ing at these disparaging insinuations against 



150 Tamar Ciirze. 



my goddess, "will you kindly explain what the 
deuce you are driving at ?" 

"Later, my boy," coolly, "have patience, sci- 
ence will " 

"Science is the bride of philosophy, and as 
such plagues or pleases us," I irritably re- 
torted. 

"Nay," gravely answered Professor D'Her- 
belot, "science is a faithful, sensible wife, in 
whose hands our honor is safe, for it is logical, 
stern, solid truth, while, on the other hand, 
philosophy, as the Duchess says, is a comforting 
solace, a sort of motherly doctrine." 



Tamar Curze. 151 



XXIII. 

The meal, as I writhed under the dragging 
torture of suspense, since she was not there, 
seemed interminable. For Professor D'Herbe- 
lot's hints regarding Tamar Curze had kept me 
in a feverish state of abeyance, especially as 
during the whole day, despite every effort, I had 
been nnable to see her, and now, at dinner, to 
my disappointment, her chair was vacant, while 
to feign attention to the few desultory remarks 
passing back and forth between Miss Longnus, 
the Professor and Sir Lionel, Lady Dora being 
also absent, was maddening. 

I was forced to admit to myself, for it was 
clear as daylight now, that during the past two 
weeks she had from some caprice been merely 
playing with me, amusing herself wantonly at 
my expense, and the full opprobrium of that fact 
was unbearable. My taut, overwrought nerves 



152 Tamar Curze. 



fluttered, resenting further prolonged strain, for 
outward calmness. Ah! at last Miss Longnus 
was arising; also, as on the evening previous, 
Sir Lionel. 

And now, over the wine and walnuts, I 
awaited in ill-concealed impatience for Profes- 
sor D'Herbelot to commence the desired sub- 
ject, but he, to my annoyance, instead of reliev- 
ing that stress of anxiety under which I la- 
bored, his thoughts seemingly thousands of 
miles away, remained mute, immovably gazing 
through the open window into the intangible dis- 
tance of the park, now bathed in shadowy twi- 
light. 

The heavy silence actually crazing me, I 
could scarcely keep my seat. Finally I ven- 
tured to approach the topic of, if not the rose, 
however, approaching nearest I could get to it, 
hoping by tact to lead thither, by remarking : 

"That was a jolly vacation we spent in India, 
Professor." 

D'Herbelot nodded without replying, but not 
daunted, I continued; 



Tamar Curze. 153 



"Did Lieutenant Curze ever explain why he 
left us so suddenly that day in the Assam jun- 

gier 

Again he nodded. 

This was the last straw. I wanted to hit 
him, half-rising to do so, but on second thought 
repeated the question, to which he answered : 

"He received a message." 

"A message," I echoed incredulously, "from 
whom?" 

"His wife." 

"How the dickens could she communicate 
with him ?" 

"Ey bearer." 

"Then she must have discovered the wireless 
system long before Marconi did," I sneeringly 
exclaimed, "for I swear there was no visible 
envoy." 

"The envoy," turning with a sharp, queer 
look, "was visible." 

"Impossible, Professor; I happened to be 
watching him when he suddenly clambered into 
the howdah, and was off like a shot." 



154 Tamar Curze. 



D'Herbelot arose, flicking the ash of his cigar 
out of the window, where he remained standing, 
till I impatiently cried : 

"How can you explain that ?" 

"Easily enough," returning to his chair. 
"Lieutenant Curze's wife had promised that, 
in case of pressing necessity, she should send 
her pet cheetah to summon him, accordingly, 
when brought to premature accouchement, she 
dispatched, as agreed, this animal, abnormally 
intelligent, to fetch him. You surely know that 
these hunting leopards possess keener scent than 
bloodhounds, far greater speed than deer." 

"Humph! I can't quite understand it even 
yet, for I saw no cheetah." 

The Professor gave me another odd glance. 

"Did you ?" I persisted. 

"Yes," after a pause, "it was the same leop- 
ardess I shot at." 

"Ah, yes," eagerly, "and disappeared." 

"Disappeared into the Lieutenant's howdah, 
where it sprung after I mortally wounded it." 

With this D'Herbelot dismissed the epi- 



Tamar Curze. 155 



sode, now maintaining a provokingly strained 
avoidance of that which, he must have known, 
most filled mj thoughts, and, instead, contrary 
to custom, branched off on an entirely different 
matter altogether, the subject being a Religio- 
Scientific discourse. 

"What is your true religion. Professor?" I 
yawned. 

"Well," after puffing slowly at his cigar for 
a few moments, "I've been called an Atheist, 
which " 

"Is untrue," I interrupted, "and unjust." 

"Yes," reverently, "I recognize, serve a Su- 
preme Ruler, whose existence is sheer folly to 
doubt, deny, for the evidence of His influence, 
presence is everywhere. 

"This, however, is an age when proselytizing, 
exclusiveness and petty denominations are pass- 
ing, while Spiritual Science, uncorrupted by 
hypocritical clergymen and egotistic ecclesias- 
tics, is practical, while other beliefs are merely 
philosophical. Mother of all religions, harmon- 
izing conflicting creeds, Spiritual Science is 



156 Tamar Curze. 



slowly taking precedence, veiling its destined 
wonders, prudently concealing its truths beneath 
modesty's manteL 

"Truths which will afford wonderful facili- 
ties for extending the sphere of law and na- 
ture. 

"It was the creed of the ancients and all great 
philosophers were its followers, Plato, Pythag- 
oras and particularly Socrates, who loudly 
proclaimed it. Its teachings will abolish the 
term 'Supernatural' by explaining the absolute 
fact of that which is now, through ignorance, er- 
roneously called 'miracles.' " 

"I differ with you there. Professor; nothing 
can explain miracles," I answered, "and me- 
thinks, if we mortals, like inquisitive children, 
loiter about the door of the gods, or dare peep, 
put a prying eye to the keyhole of To-morrow's 
portals ; Lo ! those two sturdy sentinels. Doubt 
and Disappointment, guarding that ponderous 
gateway, will roughly tweak our ears to teach us 
better manners." 

"Nay," answered D'Herbelot, "would the 



Tamar Ciirze. 157 



Creator have given us the evidence, inspired 
His children with capacities, insatiable thirst 
for knowledge, merely to irritate them? Ko, 
there is method in all. It is His desire that we 
should penetrate, fathom, secure light, reason 
from every deed which He in his inscrutable 
wisdom has given us to make possible by faith- 
fully fulfilling every requirement, obligation 
imposed upon us fearless of consequences." 

"Is this wonderful science," I asked, "at the 
disposal of all ?" 

"Yes, of any worthy mortal, who faithfully 
seeks it, but is only acquirable when its follow- 
ers are truly, conformably loyal to its belief and 
aspirations are actuated by noble purposes not 
personal trifles." 

"Cornelius Agrippa claimed a magician must 
be born. Professor." 

"That is untrue, but to gain achievement, as 
my friend Emoclew-Houssien Eao, an adept, 
has done, one must be physically, mentally pure, 
accepting every demand uncomplainingly, heed- 
less of its severity to iN'ature's dictation. 



158 Tamar Curze. 



"First of all is the law of obedience to Truth, 
charity and mankind. Spiritual Science is Na- 
ture's doctrine, though quackery has greatly 
monopolized, shamelessly abused the true 
tJieugrie use of the term. For, do not tares and 
■wheat invariably grow close together ? It is the 
souls " 

"Then you do acknowledge a soul. Profes- 
sor?" I said. "Some Scientists aflSrm that the 
soul is merely a logical postulate, just a symbolic 
abbreviation independent of its expressions, 
functions of the psychic facts themselves." 

"Tut !" impatiently answered D'Herbelot, se- 
lecting, cracking a walnut, "that is all bosh and 
a leaden, unwholesome, chaotic idea, utterly un- 
worthy serious consideration, being both hope- 
less, illogical and besides an insult to the Crea- 
tive Power, for Nature substantiates the fact of 
an ever-existing soul or ego attributory to the 
same, that wonderful system controlling the 
living faculties. 

"Yes, my friend, I believe, and say as Soc- 
rates did, ^I respect my soul, though I cannot 



Tamar Curze. 159 



see it.' For the locus of the soul is there, a 
direct emanation from the Deity. All united 
in the immense circle of infinity, we are all de- 
rived from and must return to the Absolute, 

who " 

At this moment Miss Longnus, pale, agitated, 
hurriedly entered and beckoned, leading us 
without a word to her Ladyship's apartments. 



160 Tamar Curze. 



XXIV. 

The day following the birth of Lady Dora's 
little daughter, the gamekeeper reported that a 
fawn and doe were found dead mangled most 
dreadfully at the south end of the park, a mile 
distant. 

The occurrence seemed at first a trivial thing 
to me, but caused the greatest turbulence at 
Glandour, for it appeared this same affair had 
happened several times previously, consequently 
every one was in a state of terror; some of the 
maid-servants, crying and whimpering, wanted 
to leave the Court immediately. 

Sir Lionel, puzzled, angrily censured the man 
for neglect of duty in not guarding the place 
sufficiently against intrusion and depredations 
of dogs belonging to families in the surround- 
ing country. 

Late in the afternoon of the same day Miss 



Tamar Curze. 161 



Longnus, pallid and grief-stricken, summoned 
me to Lady Dora's assistance, who, unfortu- 
nately, was suddenly taken worse, for I found 
her, as I thought, dying, when, happily, much 
to my relief. Professor D'Herbelot entered, 
who, with a cheery word and soothing gesture, 
took both her hands in his. 

There was no mistaking the genuine sym- 
pathy with which he bent over the couch, that 
he had conceived a deep, fatherly affection for 
Lady Dora, while she, naturally of a singular 
clinging, lovable nature, seemed to find instant 
relief in his subtle strength and poignant buoy- 
ancy. 

"ITow, now, My Lady," he said, softly pat- 
ting her white fingers, "what's this ? You must 
not turn back again, now that Doctor Rossiter 
and I have got you along the recovery road so 
famously. What do you mean, eh?" banter- 
ingly, "by taking the honors away from us in 
this ungrateful fashion ? 

"Come," drawing from his vest pocket and 
uncorking a small black vial, "take a little sip 



162 Tamar Curze. 



of this, my dear. Ko, it isn't bitter," as Lady 
Dora made a slight protesting grimace ; "there, 
that's right," speaking with almost emphatical 
tenderness, "now shut your eyes, yes, hold my 
hand if you want to, tight, tighter. Tut, no, 
3^ou won't hurt me ; and go to sleep, there, now, 
so." 

And in a thrice Lady Dora, at his command, 
was sleeping soundly, while he patiently re- 
mained in the same uncomfortable position, 
gently stroking the sleeping woman's forehead 
and frail, transparent hands. 

The chamber grew dim, ghostly; Professor 
D'Herbelot, about him hovering a sort of depth- 
less knowledge pertaining to life and things 
eternal, still maintained his motionless attitude ; 
while Miss Longnus, kneeling on the other 
side of the bed, watched with sad, intense eyes 
the rim of the sun's crimson disc slowly disap- 
pearing behind the tree-tops. 



Tamar Curze. 163 



XXV. 

A few hours later I strolled with my cigar 
for companionship in the park. It was a fine 
night, the moon shining so gloriously one could 
almost see to read, when presently D'Herbelot 
joined me. He, too, was smoking and the ci- 
gar, judging from its aroma, was a strong one. 

"Hello, Professor, how is our patient ?" 

D'Herbelot, removing the weed from his lips, 
flicked its ashes against the branch of an elm. 

"She's improving," I said with optimistic 
cheerfulness, "eh ?" impatient at his silence. 

"Lady Dora is worse, Rossiter, much worse." 

"I wish we could break that confounded 
apathy of hers," I answered. 

"We may not have another hour together in 
confidence," said D'Herbelot, consulting his 
watch, "as I am compelled to leave for London 
at daybreak." 



164 Tamar Curze. 



"At daybreak?" I iterated in astonishment; 
"why so sudden, so early?" 

"It is imperative that I depart almost im- 
mediately. One danger has been temporarily 
removed, but another element which seriously 
threatens me remains." 

"Element?" I stammered stupidly, "what 
element ?" 

"Here," touching the region of his heart sig- 
nificantly, "there's a weakness." 

"Your heart ?" I interrogated. 

He nodded affirmatively, saying: 

"Yes, Rossiter, my heart; that potion which 
I have just given her Ladyship deprives me of a 
faithful protector, a friend upon whom I've re- 
lied, depended for years." 

"And Lady Dora?" I answered, "will she 



"Lady Dora, my friend, cannot possibly live 
longer than a week." 

"Oh, nonsense, Professor," I ejaculated in- 
credulously, "it is surely nothing more serious 
than a little nervousness." 



Tamar Curze. 165 



"Nay," gravely shaking his head, "her Lady- 
ship is dying and has been dying since the birth 
of the child. That draught which I gave her 
will prolong life one week. It is an herb, given 
me by Emoclew-Houssein Rao, discovered in Ti- 
bet, whose effects are marvelous ; unfortunately, 
however, it was the last few drops I possessed, 
and cannot procure more in this country, hence 
my urgent need to go." 

"And you," I cried, grasping his hand 
warmly, "you have jeopardized your life to save 
Lady Dora? Professor, you are one of God's 
noblemen." 

"Tut, it was obviously my duty and may elim- 
inate one black mark from my account. But, 
as I said before. Lady Dora will live one week, 
no longer, perchance not so long, as the drug 
loses its strength with age." 

Sighing deeply, he continued : 

"If I could obtain twenty drops, her life 
would last twenty days, which would enable, 
give me time, to procure, return with more, 
but " 



166 Tamar Curze. 



"As it is ?" I asked. 

"She must die." 

At this conclusion of his words I jumped, 
and although a man of more than average cour- 
age, shook with fright, the cold sweat trickling 
in a stream down the small of my back, for a 
laugh, no, not a laugh, but some horrible sound 
resembling it, an indescribable, weird, sneering 
sound, broke the night's stillness. 

"Hist," whispered D'Herbelot, pulling me 
with a sharp jerk of his muscular arm uncere- 
moniously behind a tall cluster of ferns, grow- 
ing in close proximity. 

Crouching low, striving to stifle our labored 
breathing, for the space of several minutes we 
knelt there. Then, as I was slowly regaining 
composure and straightening my cramped, ach- 
ing limbs, came once more, but this time much 
nearer, that queer noise which, plain, distinct, 
was now a human laugh, causing my heart to 
throb with maddening joy, for it was that self- 
same laugh which I had heard only two even- 
ings previously at dinner. 



Tamar Ciarze. 167 



I was essaying some sarcastic remark about 
our recent idiotic fears, when D'Herbelot 
hissed : 

"Silence, not a word for your life." 

For suddenly from the clump of trees to the 
left leaped an animal, a superb beast, its silky 
coat shining like richest satin, and whose back 
and sides were covered with round brown spots, 
while its breast was of soft, woolly whiteness. 

Pressing my fingers to my constricted throat, 
I mentally questioned, was I going mad or 
dreaming, for once again I was seized with that 
same sensation which assailed me upon my first 
evening at Glandour. 

Losing all fear, I gazed in silent admiration 
at the splendid creature, who, could it be a mo- 
mentary hallucination or an ocular delusion, 
was as beautiful, aye, as royally, damnably 
beautiful as that day in the Assam jungle, 
twenty years ago. 

For retrospection, flashing the truth, solved 
that hitherto inexplicable connection which 
linked the two together. 



168 Tamar Ciirze. 



"Bismillah! it's herself/' whispered D'Her- 
belot, who still clasping my arm, was breathing 
heavily, his pistol clutched tight, his black eyes 
blazing with suppressed excitement, "but," he 
muttered, "how under heaven has the infernal 
Jezebel obtained the secret of Metamorphosis ?" 

While Professor D'Herbelot still muttered in- 
coherently, spellbound, fascinated, with a giddi- 
ness in my head, I watched the beautiful, rest- 
less thing before me, one moment shaking, toss- 
ing its head to the moonlit sky, lifting, scenting 
the air with quivering, distended nostrils, anon 
walking back and forth with long, slow, grace- 
ful steps, then suddenly lying down upon its 
stomach, yawned, stretched like a young colt, re- 
minding me of something which having been 
imprisoned all day, had just regained its free- 
dom, twisting its lithe, supple body with the 
sinuous grace of a " 

"Hush," whispered D'Herbelot, as my ner- 
vous movements caused a dry twig, crushed be- 
neath my heel, to crack with a snap. "Hush, 
you madman." 



Tamar Curze. 169 



For, instantly on her feet, alert, her impetu- 
ous limbs suggesting greater fleetness than a 
deer, she was ready for flight, when clear, 
sharp, a report rang out, followed by a sup- 
pressed feline cry of mingled distress and rage. 

"Take that, my Lady," gleefully cried 
D'Herbelot, as she sank to the ground ; "it will 
hinder your pranks for some time, I fancy." 

And as he again took aim I, jumping to my 
feet with ferocious unreason, that instinct which 
prompts the savage male to protect its mate, 
dashed the smoking weapon from his hand. 

"You ass," raged D'Herbelot, turning on me 
in a fury, though evidently thinking it an acci- 
dent, "you thundering blockhead." 

While he was speaking, I saw with keen sat- 
isfaction that she was slowly crouching along 
the grass, making for the shrubbery. 

By this time the household was aroused and 
Sir Lionel, loudly demanding the cause of the 
shooting, came forth, followed by a troop of 
servants, who in frightened groups stood hud- 
dled together. 



170 Tamar Curze. 



"It is nothing more serious than that I have 
just taken a shot at your unknown midnight 
marauder, Sir Lionel, and will wager my head 
that henceforth your deer will be safe from fur- 
ther molestation. Come in this direction." 

So saying, D'Herbelot seized a lantern from 
one of the men and hurriedly led the way. Sir 
Lionel and myself at his heels, the servants lag- 
ging some little distance in the rear. 

Suddenly the Professor stopped, glancing 
about, a look of blank bewilderment on his face. 

"Rossiter," he faltered, "it was here where 
she fell ?" 

"Yes, Professor." 

"Then I fear," gloomily, "through your con- 
founded clumsiness I may lose her again. "Ah," 
he cried, "blood. Yes, this is the spot. And 
see! here are more traces. Come quick, 
quicker !" 

The moon was now almost totally obscured by 
clouds, but our lanterns enabling us, we traced 
the blood-stains, losing, then finding them later. 

Near the ed^e of the graveled walk, where the 



Tamar Curze. 171 



rhododendrons grew high and dense, they were 
now trampled, broken, plainly disclosing the 
path through which the beast had dragged her 
heavy, bleeding body, evidently seeking conceal- 
ment in the vicinity of the Court walls, which 
were thickly surrounded by bushes of almost 
every description. 

Holding his lantern aloft. Professor D'Her- 
belot stood peering anxiously around, then 
asked : 

"What is this? Steps?" 

"Yes," answered Sir Lionel, "these are un- 
used stairs." 

"Wheredo they lead?" 

"Eh," a trifle impatiently, "er, to my cousin, 
Miss Curze's apartments." 

"Umph," D'Herbelot stopped; then beck- 
oned us forward. "Look," pointing to the jag- 
ged stone steps, whereon glowed several bright 
red splashes of blood. "Sir Lionel, no doubt, 
this thing is in concealment above. Will you 
and Rossiter follow me ? The others," indicat- 
ing the servants, "will please remain below." 



172 Tamar Curze. 



These words were wholly unnecessary, for 
those people now flew pell-mell in all directions, 
while we mounted the solid, moss-grown stair- 
way, fully expecting to be confronted by the des- 
perate, pain-maddened animal. 

But, upon reaching the top, however, we 
found neither sign nor trace. Ah, yes, there 
were several large pools of blood. 

"The brute must have bled frightfully," mut- 
tered D'Herbelot. Then, as Sir Lionel and my- 
self were preparing to descend, he said : 

"Will you permit Rossiter and I to search 
these rooms. Sir Lionel ?" 

"Nonsense," testily replied our host, "it is an 
utter impossibility for anything to gain an in- 
gress through this door," tapping the heavy iron 
portal with the toe of his shoe, "it has not been 
opened for ages." 

An assertion which I secretly knew to bo un- 
true. 

"The animal," continued Sir Lionel, "has 
evidently escaped down the stairs again; after 
all, Professor," a trifle banteringly, "it may, in 



Tamar Curze. 173 



all probability, have been only a rabbit which 
you shot." 

"Sir Lionel/' gravely replied D'Herbelot, "I 
don't wish to interfere in that which concerns 
me not, but to my mind this is a serious matter 
requiring thorough investigation, and this thing, 
I will vouch with my life, has found conceal- 
ment within." 

"Pooh! My dear Professor, it is utterly ab- 
surd to imagine such a thing, and," continued 
Sir Lionel, "pray, consider the annoyance, in- 
convenience to Tamar, Miss Curze, who, assur- 
edly, at this hour, has long since retired, 
and " 

"I should think," hastily interrupted Profes- 
sor D'Herbelot, "that the lady both for her own 
safety and others would willingly render all the 
assistance possible." 

"Well," doubtfully hazarded Sir Lionel, de- 
scending, "I shall request Miss Curze's permis- 
sion, and, if granted, you may search to your 
heart's content. But, remember, I do not wish 
her alarmed, frightened in any way whatever." 



174' Tamar Curze. 



"Certainly not," indignantly, "but surely she 
will have the sense to know that what we re- 
quest is for her own good." 

"All right," answered Sir Lionel, waving his 
lantern from below, "remain there a few min- 
utes, gentlemen." 

Accordingly we waited till considerable time 
had elapsed, then finally heard voices, and after 
some parley from the inside, permission was 
granted us to enter. 

"I beg you to be as quiet as possible," cau- 
tioned Sir Lionel, before leaving us, while the 
Ayah pulled the heavy curtains which draped 
the bed closer together, "Miss Curze is ill, very 
ill indeed." 

We searched faithfully every nook and cor- 
ner of the spacious rooms, even lifting the leop- 
ard skin from the floor in our quest, which, as I 
was about to relay, D'Herbelot excitedly seized 
it, crying: 

"What is this?" pointing to a small round 
blotch, then, after pressing his fingers to it, held 



Tamar Curze. 175 



out his palm, stained with deep crimson, grimly 
saying, "ah." 

"My han'," quickly explained the old woman, 
who, hitherto squatted Oriental fashion on the 
floor regarding us sullenly, now arising, sa- 
laamed profoundly. 

"My han'," she repeated in her imperfect 
English, holding up that left memher, which 
showed an ugly gash across the yellow wrist, 
from which the blood was slowly oozing. "See, 
Sahib, cut." 

"Humph! strange," uttered D'Herbelot, "I 
could take an oath her arm was uninjured a mo- 
ment since." Aloud, he asked: 

"How did it happen ?" 

She nodded without speaking toward a crystal 
pitcher broken and scattered in a dozen pieces 
upon a nearby table. 



176 Tamar Curze. 



XXVI. 

"If she had a kitten or even a tame mouse we 
couldn't have missed it," I said a few minutes 
later, when seated together in the Professor's 
chamber before retiring, "for we looked every- 
where." 

"Ko, Eossiter, not everywhere. You for- 
get," dryly, "the most important place was for- 
bidden us." 

"Eh ?" I blankly interrogated. 

"Don't you understand ?" 

I shook my head in puzzled negation. 

"The bed," answered D'Herbelot, pouring out 
a stiff glass of brandy, and pushing the decanter 
toward me. 

"Zounds! Yes!'* cried I, reaching for the 
bottle, "how infernally stupid not to have 
guessed it sooner, and " 

"That," lifting the glass to his lips, and 



Tamar Curze. 177 



draining it neat at one gulp, "is where the secret 
lays." 

In the silence following this significant re- 
mark, Peters, the Professor's valet, could be 
plainly heard in the adjoining room busily pre- 
paring for the morning's journey. The shak- 
ing, brushing of garments irritated me and, 
while my thoughts drifted, started nervously as 
the Professor sharply struck a match and relit 
his cigar. As I inertly conjectured, why did I 
wish to save the cheetah ? What unconquerable 
force compelled me to prevent the second shot ? 
Which wild act I now most cordially regretted, 
vaguely pondering what motive prompted me, 
brooding moodily upon this one perplexing idea. 
I again started violently when D'Herbelot, after 
a few terse moments, abruptly continued : 

"As I said before, Rossiter, this woman ic a 
psychological problem, and has evil, powerful 
secrets. What they were I at first only sur- 
mised, but my suspicions, during the past hour, 
have become verified. The one main, devilish 



178 Tamar Curze. 



secret, however, she and her black Ayah still 
control, for " 

But my mind, busily traversing the shadowy 
corridors of imperceptibility, unable longer to 
concentrate attention, failed to catch the remain- 
ing sentence. 

One thing was certain. All hitherto interest 
in Tamar Curze, from whom my thoughts now 
in repulsion recoiled, was for some unaccounta- 
ble reason gone, utterly, forever. 

This mysterious revulsion of feeling was as 
swift as that peculiar subtle affinity which in- 
cited it, and in the realization my first con- 
scious analysis of this paramount fact was over- 
whelming self -contempt for my late inexplicable 
infatuation, in the heat of which mentally I 
roundly cursed myself for a dolt, an idiotic ass. 
Yes, thank God, that mad, fantastic dream had 
fled like froth, vanishing entirely, instead of 
which remained a frenzied loathing for her, the 
vile siren whom I had loved so madly, passion- 
ately, ultimately, and who, strange as it may 
seem, even up to the very moment, until I trai- 



Tamar Curze. 179 



torously frustrated D'Herbelot's bullet, had so 
completely, with her witch's spell, enslaved me. 

However, this hellish illusion now happily 
passed, I squared my shoulders at the readjust- 
ment, which brought with it a thankful sense of 
despotic oppression removed. 

Then my aberration turned, centered on 
D'Herbelot. How ludicrous in his sight I must 
appear, dreading in a shame-faced way the Pro- 
fessor's well-merited rebuke or epigTammatic 
gibe. And remorsefully remembering those ill- 
concealed feelings of distrust which he already 
entertained, my restless, fretful thoughts con- 
stantly reverting to the matter, I ruefully pon- 
dered, would he ever trust me again ? 

When he quickly in response, as if prompted 
by mental telepathy, suddenly laid his large, 
firm hand kindly upon my own, which glowed 
warmly beneath the magnetic influence of that 
sympathetic touch, as he said: 

"Yes, Eelix, I trust you, trust you 
lutely." 



180 Tamar Curze. 



These assuring words made a proud man of 
me, as I fervently responded : 

"Thank you, Professor, it is your faith I 
most require." 

"You have it, lad," the pressure upon my 
arm increased; "we're all subject to tempta- 
tions. They are inevitable, and come without 
volition." 

How thoroughly he understood. His words, 
presence seemed to redeem, cleanse me from the 
mire of debasement. 

"You could," regarding me reflectively, "as- 
sist me in a matter of the greatest impiort and 
confidence, if you would." 

"Try me, my pledge is given beforehand," I 
eagerly replied. 

"Later," his eyes meeting mine gratefully, 
"later, my boy, I may put you to the test. 
Meanwhile," arising wearily, as the clock on the 
mantle slowly chimed midnight, "I must order 
you off to bed." 

"Pardon, Professor, how thoughtless, how 
beastly selfish of me," I cried, noticing for the 



Tamar Cnrze. 181 



first time his extreme pallor and the hand press- 
ing his side. "Here," hurriedly pouring out a 
glass of brandy, and proffering it him, "drint 
this." 

"No," waving it aside, "I'm all right." 

"You are ill. Professor; it is deliberate cru- 
elty to leave you." 

"Nonsense, you forget Peters is in the next 
room and will attend to my requirements." 

"But," I hesitated. 

"Pray, go, Pelix, though I much desire you 
to remain and discuss certain affairs of vital im- 
portance, which, however, must wait till some 
near future time, for I must try before starting 
to gGkt a few hours' rest, then make off with the 
greatest possible speed." 

"Well," still lingering, while the clock melo- 
diously proclaimed the half-hour, "I will try 
and most likely see you before you go." 

"The probabilities are that you will not, so 
make no rash promises," smiled D'Herbelot, 
who^ bending over the table, was idly fidgeting 



182 Tamar Curze. 



with some loose papers ; "1 know of old what a 
sluggard you are." 

"Twit me not with facts or faults, Profes- 
sor," I answered, my hand on the door-knob; 
''if that duffer Morpheus doesn't hold me too 
tight a grip, I'll see you in the early morning; 
if not, at any rate soon in London." 

"Undoubtedly," answered D'Herbelot, com- 
ing quickly forward and resting his hand upon 
my shoulder, said: 

"I love you as a son, Rossiter; good-night." 



Tamar Curze. 18S 



XXVII. 

Hark, the voice, that whisper. Listen. Oh, 
hush, I've lost it again, and then, I awaken, 
while the question my paralyzed tongue refused 
to frame is reflected, answered with brutal clar- 
ity in the man's distressed eyes above my pillow 
mutely attesting that Professor D'llerbelot had 
passed to that infinite finality which awaits us 
all. 

Peters, his faithful servant for years, tear- 
fully related in an awe-stricken tone how he had 
found him fully dressed in his chair, lifeless, 
pathetically indicating he had expired from the 
cause previously intimated. But, alas! how 
could I know, guess that fatal hour was so peril- 
ously near. 

The following is an unfinished letter ad- 
dressed to me, over which his outstretched hand 
was spread, as if screening it from other eyes : 



184 Tamar Curze. 



"My Dear Rossiter: — 

"It is useless, I cannot sleep, for while, no 
doubt, by this time, Morpheus has you in his 
clutches. Miss Insomnia holds me in as relent- 
less though less welcome embrace. 

"I will therefore pass the interval before 
dawn in scribbling this which, if not destroyed, 
you may pronounce Idiotic and Utopian. 

"Fitting the subject, I'll take for a principle 
Insanity, which curious malady some alienists 
aver contagious whilst others equally positive 
deny. 

"Now, different treatises I have faithfully 
studied and unhesitatingly declare there is no 
insanity, basing my belief on this hypothesis. 

"Some humans having no conception of spir- 
itual existence spurn the idea of life hereafter, 
with the result, when departed, those same enti- 
ties are so closely connected earthward, which 
enables them to produce physical manifestations 
frequently essaying human or animal shapes. 
Thus, these sub-humans often possessing mag- 
netic faculties, easily acquire control of inferior 



Tamar Curze. 185 



minded mortals, consequently constitute them- 
selves the earthling's master, often using 
through these helpless puppets a power for 
shameful purposes, who now for good or evil 
deeds are completely under this subjection, 
blindly obeying the mandates of their tyrannical 
superiors. 

"Those who have studied the Veda know the 
Hindoos acknowledge fourteen spiritual spheres, 
seven above, seven below, the earth included, be- 
ing the abiding place of myriads of entities with 
neither heavenly claims nor aspirations, in short 
those who do not desire to possess the atma or 
divine soul. 

"These erstwise mortals, having left the ma- 
terial body and forbidden higher spheres, peram- 
bulate that mediocre territory, separating by the 
merest sheet of astral fluid the visible and in- 
visible. Thus, those malcontents, inhabiting 
the various narrow spaces, termed dkasa, be- 
tween life and eternity, lurk ever watchful to 
reinhabit an earthly body, and when death 



186 Tamar Curze. 



snatches a soul instantly seize, appropriate the 
vacant shell. 

"Naturally that body, outwardly unchanged, 
is, however, altered internally. The usurper's 
character, established as the most commanding 
impulse, nothing can change nor prevent follow- 
ing the bent of its nature. Thus, this inhar- 
mony, caused between these two unevenly bal- 
anced factors, occasions various contradictive 
complications; therefore, insanity is charged. 

"But now to the main, most important part, a 
fact in which my lines of personal investigation 
have given me many other explanatory details. 

"Psychology, Philosophy, Patience, Obedi- 
ence are the four predominate notes, but Sci- 
ence is the mighty hand which invariably strikes 
the resounding cord of truth. 

"Thoughts manufacture matter so surely as 
mental energy produces action, and these 
thoughts can take form physically as well as 
mentally, sometimes transcending restricted 
limits. 



Tamar Curze. 187 



"In all forms of nature we see various ob- 
jects, creatures whose characteristics are akin 
to ourselves, recognizing in an animal's cruelty 
a relative's semblance j the peacock's vanity 
some friend; the snake's venom reminding us 
of another ; for are we not, having sprung from 
the same source, all related ? 

"And, as these instincts encouraged, unfold- 
ing, develops, finally predominating, till, be- 
coming alienable, assumes human form. 

"This transformation, wild, improbable as it 
may appear, I have witnessed, and positively af- 
firm is accomplished without any so-called genii 
or magic, aided merely by spiritual, scientific 
art, and, as surely as man can, through the 
operation of his will, read the hidden things of 
another's mind, this, I solemnly state, can like- 
wise be done. ISTeither need we wait till death 
for reincarnation; it can be successfully per- 
formed during life. 

"Your human understanding cannot perhaps 
wholly grasp the fact that the possible and im- 



188 Tamar Curze. 



possible may occasionally meet upon an even 
assumption. Truth eclipses wonders, and the 
undisputable age of wonders is approaching. 

"This world, asleep for ages, is now just com- 
mencing to yawn, stretch itself preparatory to 
awakening. We are blinking upon the threshold 
of a glorious new era, more wonderful by far, 
not judging the future by the past, than which 
has been lost, regained. 

"To you, Eossiter, who are a man of stamina, 
having vastly more comprehensive appreciation 
pertaining to metaphysics than your colleagues, 
to you then I'll make my meaning clearer. 

"You have heard me mention Emoclew-Hous- 
sein Rao. This marvelous Brahmin, combining 
Occidental knowledge with Hindustani lore, 
having familiarized himself, has become un- 
equaled in Ontology, leaving at will for weeks, 
nay, months, his body inanimate, commanding 
when desirous to return his media, who in- 
stantly uncoffin, anoint, rub with oils the dry, 
withered frame, rendering ready for occupancy 
that body as soft, pliant, healthy as before its 



Tamar Curze. 189 



suspended animation. This we know is no new 
feat, yet wonderful withal. 

"ISTow, in some such department, this woman, 
Tamar Curze, a mixture of animal and human, 
has acquired, though her nurse, the Ayah, is the 
magnate, the direct instrument through which 
she operates. 

"This pair of Theurgists, I must confess, pos- 
sess more real knowledge concerning Cosmic 
law than I with all my years of research. That 
thought is torment, for I constantly fear at any 
moment, now even this instant, the world may 
acclaim this woman my superior or perchance 
alight on some method of its fuller development, 
for theory first prompts new discoveries, while 
facts lead to evokement of new theories, which 
at any moment the analytical, piercing eye of 
Science will bring to light. 

"Every age gives birth to some important 
truth astounding fact, and every age assuredly 
has, if not in this civilized time, its dungeons, 
racks to torture the inspired prophet or diviner. 
It has its scoffing villifiers, wisdom's petty ene- 



190 Tamar Curze. 



mies, all eager to crush, condemn with tongue 
or pen the hapless informer, for we still retain 
to a ludicrous degree the fanaticism of our bar- 
baric ancestors. 

"This dread sends a faintness to my heart. 
Is it possible, Rossiter, that I have delayed my 
departure too long? — faintness increases — a 
glass of water — relieve me — yet dare not make 
the effort. Is then this numbness the end? — 
while a girl may — give to the — prematurely — 
ah — with my finger now on Destiny's pulse 
must I " 

Thus the epistle ended, and as the writer's last 
spoken words rang in my ears, "I love you as a 
son, Rossiter, good-night," I am not ashamed to 
say that the only tears I wept since childhood 
were shed for this friend, to me the most be- 
loved of men. 



Tamar Curze. 191 



XXIX. 

Already the name of him I loved was, after 
the papers had blazoned it through Europe, now 
a tender memory over which I was not permit- 
ted to linger, the living claimed urgent atten- 
tion. Lady Dora's condition being so critical, 
demanded my constant presence. 

The Duchess was in London, and Miss Curze 
I had not set eyes on since that memorable first 
night of Professor D'Herbelot's arrival. 

During this sad time. Miss Longnus, though 
wan and tired, steadfastly refused to leave the 
patient's side, nor was any persuasion available, 
and not till I professionally ordered did she 
relinquish her post for brief intervals of rest. 

This is when through an appearance of chill 
reserve the innate sweetness of Olivia Long- 
nus' character first appealed to me, winning my 
appreciation and esteem, drawing me from the 



192 Tamar Curze. 



torrid depths of moroseness occasioned by my 
dear friend's demise to the cool haven of peace, 
happiness, for beneath its soothing influence my 
grief diminished, my heart became buoyant with 
joyous anticipation, though, however, during 
the distressing period merely the barest saluta- 
tions ever passed between us, monosyllabic ques- 
tions asked, answered, nothing but the strict, 
curt formality of Doctor and Nurse was main- 
tained. 

In perfect harmony we worked. Miss Long- 
nus with swift intuition comprehending my 
slightest desires and, not assailed by silly nerves 
so prevalent with her sex, self-reliant, acted 
promptly, never irritating with senseless chat- 
ter, interrogative eye, uplifted brow, nor spas- 
modically grabbing, reaching from one article to 
another, as I've seen so many others do, and 
which to a physician is so annoying. 

No, there was comfort, repose in every quiet 
act, serene movement, and my heart suddenly 
awakened, yearned to possess this low-voiced, 
Bweet woman, entirely devoid of coquettish fal- 



Tamar Ciirze. 193 



lals, snch as a bow, frill, or an apparently un- 
noticed escaping tress of hair, clad in her soft, 
dove-colored gown of Puritanical simplicity, 
she was neat, plain, refreshingly wholesome. 
As silently, side by side, we moved by mutual 
impulse, sympathetically labored, administer- 
ing unceasingly to our charge, fighting to defeat 
that grim spectre which, however, despite all 
desperate efforts, seemed determined to conquer. 



194 Tamar Curze. 



XXX. 

And now, I grieve to say, at the time speci- 
fied by Professor D'Herbelot, Lady Dora passed 
from life, her infant daughter surviving her but 
a few hours. 

Shortly before the end she requested to see 
Sir Lionel alone, who later emerged from the 
death-chamber like one distraught, staggered, 
reeled by me to his own apartments, locking 
himself within; what passed between husband 
and wife during these last moments I never 
knew. 

Lady Dora's interment, with its sombre acces- 
sories attendant to such occasions, now being 
over, after which distressing ordeal I was free 
to leave Glandour and its heavy atmosphere of 
gloom. 

Contemplating my return to London on the 
morrow, and therefore hastening to acquaint 



Tamar Ciirze. 195 



Sir Lionel of this intention, I was surprised to 
see Miss Curze kneeling in a dejected attitude 
in front of his door, who, upon my nearer ap- 
proach, seemingly with great difficulty, arose 
to her feet, aided by a stout bamboo cane, ex- 
plaining the reason as rheumatism. 

After passing a few desultory words with her 
I knocked sharply upon the panel, but gaining 
no response, impatiently called Sir Lionel's 
name, then recoiled as the door was partly 
opened and he, with disheveled hair, swollen, 
bloodshot eyes, his ghastly face unrecognizable, 
confronted me, a crumpled, yellow letter held 
loosely between his fingers. 

"In God's name," I cried, "what " 

But at this instant Miss Curze shot past and 
frantically throwing both arms about his neck, 
while, heedless of my presence, her lips clinging 
insistent sought his. A moment, as if dazzled, 
he stood, passively submitting to those fierce 
caresses. Then, suddenly, with an oath, flung 
her roughly aside. 

At this brutality the woman's arms dropped 



196 Tamar Curze. 



heavily to her sides, while there was a strange 
dilation of the pupils as the yellow eyes nar- 
rowed; then, after a second's deliberation, dur- 
ing which she regarded him queerly, she limped 
painfully away. 

"Rossiter," said Sir Lionel, passing his hand 
confusedly across his brow, "have you ever un- 
dergone the hell of remorse ? If not, you can- 
not form the slightest idea of the torments I am 
suffering." 

"Lionel," I answered, taking him firmly by 
the shoulders, "you have shut yourself up too 
long and become morbid." 

"ISTo, Felix; I'm a traitor, false to love, 
duty, gratitude and that which is most sacred 
of all — honor." 

"My dear boy," I began, but he shook his 
head, retreating into the room, which I also en- 
tered, saying: 

"I must speak to you, nay, you must listen; 
come," authoritatively, "come." 

At another time he would doubtlessly have 
resented my tone ; as it was, however, the weary. 



Tamar Curze. 197 



disheartened man, without another word, obedi- 
ently followed me through the open window out 
upon the lawn. , 

"Here, smoke this," said I, offering him a 
cigar, which he absently accepted, and then, 
slipping my arm through his, slowly proceeded 
toward the elm-walk, where, back and forth, 
with military precision, we paced, soon coming 
to the end of our weeds, and I, knowing my wal- 
let to be empty, said : 

"Wait here a moment, old man, till I fetch 
some," and straightway starting off on my quest, 
reaching my chamber, searched diligently, but 
without avail, for the desired Havanas. Then, 
concluding Broome, my man, had evidently, in 
view of the morning's departure, packed them 
away, I discovered the box at the bottom of a 
portmanteau, after which, lighting one and fill- 
ing the case, I hastened thither to join my com- 
panion, who no doubt by this time would be 
growing impatient at my long delay. Upon 
reaching the avenue, however, I was surprised 
to find it empty. 



198 Tamar Curze. 



"The ungrateful fellow!" I grumbled, not a 
little annoyed to find him gone, "has given me 
the slip." 

However, loath to leave the park, which, after 
the sweltering heat of the day, was pungent with 
the fragrance of sleeping flowers, there was a 
certain alluring enchantment in this majestic 
solitude, a delightful humidity in the air, which 
decided me to finish my cigar before turning in. 

Overhead the moon serenely floated in a sil- 
ver lake, shedding her splendor over everything, 
and indifferent to which direction I took, 
strolled to the accompaniment of a mental sym- 
phony, building airy castles of the future, 
wherein Olivia was enthroned as queen. 

Sauntering along, my amorous aberrations 
finally ceasing, drifted to Sir Lionel. Ponder- 
ing how to pull the poor chap out of his present 
wretched plight, occasioned by his young wife's 
death, which had so tragically afflicted him. 

"Dear old Lionel," I muttered; "it is just 
what was to be expected from a man of his cali- 
ber. Confound it all ! I'll take him away, we 



Tamar Ciirze. 199 



will leave the cramped, superficial limits of civ- 
ilization and live a jolly, free, independent life 
hunting tigers and other big game ; it will " 

Then suddenly awakening from my enthused 
reverie and remembering the morning's journey, 
I consulted my watch. 

"Jove ! so late," I ejaculated, turning on my 
heel, for the hands registered fourteen minutes 
to twelve, when a noise from somewhere sent an 
uncanny premonition of calamity over me, but, 
instantly dismissing my presage, doubtless en- 
gendered by the sudden gloom, for the moon, 
like a drowsy white lily, had slipped, sheated 
herself within an emerald cloud, causing the 
deep, gray shadows cast from the scattered trees 
to grow weirdly black, while, reflected in the 
mid-heavens, there was a peculiar bronze, green- 
ish glow, through which the stars, a brilliant 
shower of sparks, as if shaken from a flaming 
torch, ruddily flecked the sky, which, sweeping 
toward the East, loomed ominously dark. 

After listening intently, glancing around into 
the sombre reach of gloomy shadows, wafted 



200 Tamar Curze. 



stealthily amongst the elms and giant oaks, once 
more it came, a groan, then silence filled with 
intense vibrancy, and I, recalling the former 
night's dramatic experience, after a moment's 
hesitancy, hastily continued toward the Court 
for safety, when plain, distinct my name was 
called, "Rossiter, Rossiter," deep, imploring. 

I faced about, some awful thing urging, im- 
pelling my assistance, was happening, and, 
reaching for my hip-pocket, wheeled, revolver in 
hand, in its direction, making a short cut by 
crossing numerous neglected paths, treading 
countless overgrown labyrinthian passages of 
tangled, flowering creepers, intertwined bushes, 
stumbling through a thick tangle of vines, a 
dense mass of cypress, foliage, scrambling, 
caught, ripping my clothes to tatters amid a 
wilderness of thorny rose-bushes. Yet, an in- 
exorable force pressing, something tangible, im- 
minent, warning me of a crisis at hand, I hur- 
ried onward, the agonized groans meanwhile 
growing nearer, though fainter, my way now 
blocked by an immense row of rhododendrons, 



Tamar Curze. 201 



through which I crashed, then wriggling 
through a towering hedge of hollyhocks, finally 
reached a soft, level stretch of glade, holding the 
pistol poised as I dimly discerned, near the en- 
trance to the arbor, some huge, swaying object 
directly in front of me. 

And now, my fingers tightening upon the 
weapon, I stopped in horror, my breath and 
marrow frozen, for the moon, suddenly un- 
swathed, shining full, plainly disclosed, stand- 
ing upright on its hind legs, the same animal 
which Professor D'Herbelot previously shot, 
wounded, its paws on Sir Lionel's shoulders, 
who stood unsteadily tottering, its teeth buried 
in his throat. 

Realizing the desperateness of the situation, 
to shoot the brute, I sprang behind the groaning 
man, then with a wild effort caught at a project- 
ing branch of the summer-house to keep from 
falling, for at sight of the pistol, was it imagi- 
nation or reality ? the beast's head had instantly 
changed, and, oh, God! through a misty yellow 
film appeared, though almost distorted out of 



202 Tairar Curze. 



human semblance, the unmistakable face of — 
was I mad ? — Tamar Curze. 

And in an illuminating flash I read the am- 
biguous meaning of D'Herbelot's late remarks. 
For a moment we looked into each other's eyes, 
after which, with a vicious snarl, reading the 
purpose, determination in mine, she slowly re- 
laxed her fierce hold upon Sir Lionel, who fell 
to the ground, and sullenly dropped upon all 
fours. 

Her eyes, gleaming fiendishly bright from the 
evil face, never strayed an instant from my own, 
which gaze, filled with the heat of hell, held, un- 
nerved, rendered me, though aching to use the 
weapon, utterly powerless to do so. 

However, despite that benumbing influence, 
I still manged to hold, point it threateningly to- 
ward the thing as now upright, now crouching, 
meanwhile jabbering some gibberish, a confused 
jargon of hideous, discordant sounds, neither 
animal nor human, but a queer mingling of the 
two combined, it slowly retreated, slinking with 
blood-covered lips and horrible, protruding 



Tamar Curze. 203 



tongue, reluctantly from its intended prey, a 
look of furious hate, baffled rage transforming 
the features till indeed they resembled some 
ghastly nightmare, imagination of the infernal 
regions, as backward limping, creeping beneath 
the fern and brown, matted grasses, which 
seemed to bend, open to receive, shield her, she 
disappeared. 



204' Tamar Curze. 



XXXI. 

Then, thrice, to summon the servants, press- 
ing my finger to the trigger, I quickly sent three 
shots echoing into the glittering firmament, and, 
fainting from his wounds, the dew of agony 
thick upon his forehead, we carried Sir Lionel 
in. 

After dressing the fearful lacerations, ban- 
daging his throat to stop the flow of blood, I im- 
mediately dispatched to London for instant as- 
sistance. 

For hours he lay between sleep and stupor, 
breathing heavily, his hands and head feverishly 
burning. The next day he was tossing in wild 
delirium, which continued unabated till the 
third morning, when, a brief interval of reason 
returning, he feebly pressed my hand, saying : 

"God bless you, Eossiter; be a father to my 
boy." 



Tamar Curze. 205 



Thus, with his wife's name upon his lips, 
died Sir Lionel Glandour, who, perhaps having 
some presentment of his impending fate, had 
made a will several days previously, appointing 
me his son's guardian. 

This sacred bequest is to my sweet wife 
and me both a duty and labor of love, for Cyril 
is equally near, dear, nay, dearer, if that were 
possible, to our hearts as our other two little 
ones. 

It has, and will ever be, our life's most earn- 
est endeavor to let him, now a handsome, sturdy 
youngster in his tenth year, remain ignorant of 
those tragic events which seem now, in our tran- 
quil peacefulness, more like a dream than ac- 
tual reality, keep his young life unclouded, 
happy, and surely we strive not in vain, for even 
as I write, glancing through the window, we 
can see the young heir of Glandour on his pony, 
his cap fallen off, the sun glinting on his bonnie, 
bright head as he laughingly canters down the 
wide sweep of leafy avenue, in playful pursuit 
of a screeching peacock ! 



206 Tamar Ciirze. 



And Olivia and I, mutely clasp, press hands, 
knowing that Sir Lionel and Lady Dora, if 
glancing down, would say: 

"It is well." 



OCT 27 1302 



